Goals & Privileges
by GuidingHand
Summary: This is a sequel to Forbidden. At the end of Forbidden Snape issued Harry a Goal to achieve: Fast Food Night at Hogwarts and a Privilege to earn: McD's desserts. Per Snape's requirements, he must achieve the goal with anonymity. Harry works toward the goal and along the way Harry finds other goals he desires to achieve. Harry/Snape mentor story.
1. Pesky Relatives

It was August. The summer had started out a bit rough. Dudley had found out about Harry's Y membership and had then demanded that he get one too. But Dudley's trips to the Y hadn't lasted long. For one, Dudley wasn't particularly athletic. For another, Dudley's bullying ways weren't tolerated by the staff of the YMCA. Barely three weeks had gone by before the company had banned Dudley from the building.

Dudley had decided to take out his anger about the ban on Harry and his bike. And that was when everything changed. Vernon had come upon a scene that included a bruised and beaten Harry pinned to a tree by two brutes while Dudley stomped on Harry's bike, bending and breaking every piece of metal on it that he was strong enough to damage. The only thing was, it wasn't Vernon. It was Snape.

It was more likely that Draco would don a tutu and dance the Nutcracker Sweet in the middle of the Great Hall than it was that the real Vernon would drag his son home by the ear and wallop his rear end. But that was exactly what happened. Then Snape had confiscated Dudley's wallet and taken Harry out to buy a replacement bike.

The whole thing was bizarre. Snape never identified himself as a polyjuiced Vernon. They both pretend that he _was _Vernon. Snape wanted to keep his cover and Harry allowed him to do so. But keeping his cover meant that he didn't help Harry with his bruises. At least not right away. Later that evening after Harry's new bike had been stashed away behind Mrs. Figg's house, and Dudley and Harry had held a verbal battle, won by Harry, ("What'd you do to my Dad?" Harry raised a brow, "Had a friend cast a an eye opener on him. Makes him see you for what you really are. Guess he didn't take to the idea of visiting you in a cell." "What'ch you mean?" "What do you think cops do? Eat donuts all day? They put cuffs on people like you and stick you in a cell." "But you're the FREAK!" "Cells aren't for Freaks Dudders. They're for people who hurt others." Harry had closed his door leaving a pensive Dudley who looked as though he'd had has his world turned upside down). Harry had ordered a meal from Edesia's through the Dieters Treasure Box. Along with the mash, beans and chicken and a slice of cherry pie for dessert, there was a phyla of healing potion.

Dudley had been wary of his father for a few days and had actually kept his nose clean in that time. In a rare stroke of luck, Petunia overheard a conversation at the store.

"That Dursley boy, he actually helped my Jason get home after he took a tumble on his bike! I would never have believed it if I hadn't seen the two of them coming up the drive."

Petunia always believed the best of her son like any good mother should. But Petunia also had an ear for gossip and it hadn't slipped pass her notice that some of the gossip around town was that her son was a bully and would one day end up behind bars. That would not do. This was the perfect opportunity for her to reward Dudley's good behavior without having to admit her son's faults. On her way home she picked up a copy of the new Sonic game. She made sure Dudley realized it was a reward for helping the Anderson boy home.

And so started the corresponding incline of the Dursley's credit card balance and Dudley's helpfulness in the neighborhood.

* * *

Harry had kept up with his letters to Snape, informing him of his activities and allowance expenditures. That was how Snape was aware that Harry had been having conflicts with Dudley. Now he had potentially another conflict with a family member coming up. Well, not a family member exactly...

Dear S.,

Aunt Marge is coming for a visit. She hates me. Even more than Filch hates Peeves. But I'm not allowed to leave the house or hardly even the room she's in while she is here. She says it's because she doesn't trust me to be out of her sight, but really I think it's 'cause like Dudley, she gets a thrill out of hurting people and I'm not allowed to defend myself so she can belittle me all she wants without anyone telling her to stop.

To make matters worse, Uncle Vernon won't sign my permission form for Hogsmeade unless I'm nice to her for an entire week! How am I supposed to do that?! I wish I could use magic during the summer. It would make life so much easier.

Missing Hogwarts,

Mr. Fuss

* * *

Dear Mr. Fuss,

Do you recall the advice I gave you a few months ago? The way to achieve your goals is to start by writing or drawing them. Then write or draw various plans for how to achieve the goal.

Your lack of understanding of the wizarding world has also earned you an additional summer homework essay. You have until your aunt's arrival to write a two foot essay on the differences between using magic and performing magic. One is illegal for you to do, the other is not. Perhaps as you write the essay you will realize some of the possibilities you have available to you to help you deal with your aunt's presence.

Achieve your goal and you'll earn your privilege.

S.

* * *

"So, advice, but no direct help this time," Harry thought with a sigh. Harry re-read the letter. "What should I start with, the essay or the drawings?" Harry asked his owl.

Hedwig didn't respond. She just ruffled her feathers and tucked her eyes beneath her wings.

Harry wasn't sure how to start the essay, so he started with sketching his privilege. He'd draw the goal later. He didn't know what Hogsmead looked like, he'd only seen glimpse of it from the train depot, but he imagined it was similar to Diagon Alley. He drew a street with various buildings on either side: Quality Quiditch, Sugarplums Sweets, Gambol and Japes joke shop, a pub, a book store and others. Then he sketched in him with Ron and Hermione coming in one store or heading out of another.

Harry wished he could make the images move. Perhaps have just one sketch of him and his friends and animate it to make them walk around the village. How was that done? Would they learn it in Charms class? Harry had a flash of a memory. The night Snape had paddled him for wandering in the Forbidden Forest the man had also forced him to spend several minutes staring into the corner of the room.

Harry's emotions had been pretty wound up that night. First he was nearly a steak dinner for spiders. Then he was handed a plank of wood and was told he was going to be hit with it. Running from Dudley and his gang was a good way to avoid getting hit. Running from an adult intent on punishing you was a good way to get hit more than they had originally planned. So though Harry's instincts told him to run he did as he was told and stood in the corner and let his mind do the running instead. He avoided thinking about what had happened and what was about to happen and instead surreptitious glanced around the unfamiliar room. There were easels, paint brushes, and what looked like carving tools.

Harry had never heard any of the students talking about taking art classes. Did Hogwarts have art classes? He'd have to write someone and ask.

As Harry drew he ponder the essay. What was the difference between using magic and performing magic? He began on another picture, doodling his thoughts. The first thing he drew was a simple wand. Being muggle raised, Harry always equated magic to wands. Harry's brow furrowed, "Wands aren't required for all magic. Is that what Snape means by the difference between using and performing magic?" Harry drew a broom flying through the air, a chess board with pieces that walked upon command, a drawer that transported food across hundreds of miles in an instant, that could, with the press of a button, switch to a wardrobe, a fireplace that whisked people away, and a potion that could heal you faster than any muggle product.

Snape implied that there was magic he could use, but not perform in order to deal with his aunt. Harry couldn't see how any of the things he had drawn could help him unless they were used to escape Privet Drive. He doubt that running away was what Snape had in mind.

Running away made him think of a flying car, which he added to his drawing. He and Ron had nearly gotten in serious trouble for being seen by muggles, but the twins had gotten away with it with having to do no more than de-nome the garden. Finally, he drew a cauldron. During the few weeks Harry had spent at The Burrow the twins had a habit of spiking peoples' drinks with things that would give you rainbow hair or cat ears. The twins claimed ownership for their pranks, proud of each new invention. These inventions were brewed. Therefore, potion making must be considered using rather than performing magic.

Harry couldn't bring himself to draw a picture of him and Marge getting along so instead he just wrote.

Goal: I will not get in an argument with Marge Dursely. I will not attack her. I will be civil toward her for an entire week.

Civil...his Uncle had been civil to him for several months now. He hadn't even breathed a word or given a hint of anger when Harry had taken his trunk to his room. His Aunt hadn't been entirely civil. But as long as he did some chores each day she didn't seem to mind him disappearing to the Y for many hours each day. What had Snape done to them to create this change? Was there something similar that he, Harry could do without the use of a wand?


	2. Hogsmeade here I come!

**Warning**  
This chapter will contain a scene of physical abuse. I do not condone physical abuse, and I would hope that no one reading this does either. But child abuse does exist and in each of the first three books Rowling hinted that it was something that happened to Harry. In the Sorcerers/Philosophers Stone Vernon said that freakishness could be cured by a good beating. In Chamber of Secrets, after Dobby dropped the pudding on a guest Vernon said he was going to flay Harry. In Prisoner of Azkaban Vernon raised a fist and threatened to knock the stuffing out of Harry if he let slip anything about being a wizard to Aunt Marge.

There will be a warning (second intermission) for when the scene is going to start and another for when it will end (third intermission). It is not particularly graphic, but I do see it as different from physical punishment. If you prefer not to read it feel free to skip it.

* * *

**Marge's Visit**

On Monday evening Marge Dursley stomped into 4 Privet Drive. "Boy, take my luggage to my room."

"Yes, ma'am."

_Excerpt from plan... Be extra nice. Even if I don't want to._

Harry lugged the suitcases to the guest room, then opened each and proceeded to put his aunt's things where they belonged. Harry hoped that Aunt Marge would appreciate not needing to unpack, but she could just as easily throw a fit due to him touching her stuff.

* * *

Tuesday morning, just before Marge awoke, Harry could be found outside weeding the rose bed.

_Excerpt from plan... Keep busy elsewhere. Chores suck, but if they keep me from arguing with Marge..._

Harry felt like a house elf. And he hated it. For the first time in his life he wasn't doing chores because he was ordered to, but of his own volition as a means of staying away from Aunt Marge as much as possible. He had been told he wasn't allowed to go to the Y while Aunt Marge was visiting.

So, if Marge was watching television, Harry was mowing the lawn. If Marge was conversing with Petunia, Harry was making beds.

* * *

Thursday afternoon found Harry locked securely in his room.

_Excerpt from plan...Get locked in (just not for bothering Marge)._

Earlier that morning Harry had "accidentally" spilled orange juice down the back of Dudley's shirt. Actually, he didn't even try to make it look like an accident. He simply poured directly from the pitcher onto Dudley's shirt. But, like any normal child he lied and attempted to get himself out of trouble.

"Aunt Petunia, I swear. I didn't mean to spill the juice on him."

That lie and his actions had earned him the first well deserved swat he had ever received from her. An outraged Petunia had hauled him to his room by the ear and clicked the locks into place. Her angry voice rattled the door, "No meals and you won't be leaving this room until I say so!"

That was fine by Harry. If he was locked in his room he couldn't get in trouble for upsetting Aunt Marge.

Harry spent the rest of Thursday and most of Friday writing letters to his friends, eating meals from Edesia's, reading comics and brewing the potion needed for the final part of his plan.

He had been worried about a smoke detector going off. If he got caught making potions Uncle Vernon would kill him. It didn't matter that the wizarding world viewed potion brewing as using magic, not performing it (at least from what Harry could tell), his uncle wouldn't see it that way.

Harry was fairly certain Snape wouldn't approve either, but Snape wasn't here. Besides, Snape had approved the use of magic as long as he didn't perform magic. Since Snape had given him a passing grade on the, You Lack Any Understanding of the Wizarding World assignment, so brewing must be an okay thing for him to do.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

"$#!^!," Harry raced from his hiding spot behind his bed, flipped the unlock Snape had installed and trotted into Duddley's bedroom. As quick as he could, he lit one of the cigarettes he had found stashed in Duddley's pocket when he had gone looking for a lighter to use under the cauldron. Leaving it atop the mostly non-flammable game system controller Harry flew back to his room and as quietly as he could shut and relocked his door. Heart hammering he yelled, "Hey! Let me out! What's going on?"

Uncle Vernon swung the door open. "What did you do, Boy?"

Harry's brow furrowed, "I called for help. Is the house on fire?"

"Is the...? It bloody well better not be. I smell smoke. Where's it coming from?" Vernon sniffed.

Harry mentally crossed his fingers and prayed. "Please follow the cigarette smoke, not the smoke from the cauldron. Please!" he thought desperately.

* * *

**Intermission**

_Imagine the background music of your choice._

As in life, so it goes in the story. One small choice can change how events play out.

The screen splits. In both, Harry stands before his uncle, hoping for the best. The one on the left fades to almost indistinguishable and we continue with the one on the right.

* * *

Uncle Vernon shoves Harry's shoulder. "Stay in here." The door slams. The locks tumble into place. Vernon sniffs and snuffs, smelling smoke, seeing wisp drift from his son's room. A cigarette glows red as ashes tumble to the side table.

Vernon stabs out the offending item and for the first time, is angry with his son.

"Dad? What are you doing in here?" Dudley inquired as he returned from the John.

The glare Vernon sent him made Dudley stumble backwards. Perhaps Harry hadn't been lying. Perhaps Harry had had someone cast an eye opener on his Dad.

Vernon held up the cigarette. "This set the smoke alarm off. Did you know your grandfather had lung cancer? That smoking these can make it so you can't breath? So that you can't box? That just one left unattended can burn a house down? If you think you can do so well without good lungs, without your things to entertain you then you can just do without them for the next week. You will sleep on the couch downstairs. You are not to enter your room except to change clothes. You will use no electronics. You will have no friends over and you will not leave this house."

Dudley just stared slack jawed at this person who both did and did not resemble his father.

"Go downstairs Dudley." Seeing his son's lack of response, Vernon grabbed his arm and turned in him in the direction of the door. "Go on."

Vernon searched Dudley's room for a few minutes and took with him any of the cigarettes he had found. His father had died from smoking too many of those. He wasn't about to let his son go the same way.

That night when Dudley went to change into his pajamas he withdrew a notebook from a drawer. On the first page there was a heading: Things My Parents Care about in Regards to Me. Below it was a pathetically short list.

_1. They care if I have nice things._

_2. I don't know if they care what I eat. They seem to want me to both lose weight and eat as much as I want of whatever I want. _

_3. They used to not care if I beat people up. Now they want me to stop. Harry says it is because they don't want to see me behind bars. Could that really happen?_

_4. Mum wants me to help others._

_Dudley grabbed a pencil and wrote down:_

_5. Dad cares if I smoke. He doesn't want me to do it._

* * *

Meanwhile, in the room next door, Harry praised Merlin that his uncle had believed the ruse. He quickly finished brewing then stashed away his potions kit.

Saturday arrived, the final day of Marge's visit.

_Excerpt from plan...If you can't beat them, join them and make merry._

"Boy, more wine!" Harry took the proffered flutes and re-filled them, adding just a few drops of Pleasant Eve to each, as well as to his and Dudely's beverages. According to his potions book it was commonly used at social gatherings to ensure that all guest had a pleasant evening. If a person began to think of something unpleasant to say, their thoughts would quickly drift to a more appropriate topic of conversation.

That night, Harry smiled contentedly as he drifted off to sleep. Marge was leaving in the morning. He had made it through the week without having one disagreement with Marge.

* * *

Sunday evening after his Uncle returned from taking Aunt Marge home Harry approached him with his permission slip. "Uncle Vernon? Could you sign my permission form?"

"Why would I do that?"

As calmly as he could, Harry replied, "Aunt Marge and I got along this week. We agreed that if the two of us got on you'd sign the form. Will you please?"

"You didn't get along with her. You avoided her. Don't think I don't know the motive of you doing chores willingly or purposefully pouring juice on Dudley. You might as well bin that form because it's not getting signed."

An angry Harry retreated to his room and slammed the door.

He should have known, no matter what he did, his uncle would never sign the form.

* * *

**Intermission**

_Please imagine the background music of your choice._

We'd like to inform the audience that the following, alternative turn of events is not appropriate for all viewers.

It displays inappropriate violence that is never acceptable in the real world. Should you choose not to view this scene we support your decision and invite you to rejoin the story after the final intermission of this chapter.

* * *

The right side of the screen fades as the left comes to life...Harry stands before his Uncle praying that the ruse will work. Vernon shoves Harry's shoulder, pushes by him, then sniffs and snuffs, smelling smoke, seeing wisp drift up from behind Harry's bed. Taking two large steps Vernon spies the cauldron and ingredients..."How dare you bring that unnaturalness into my home!" With a kick the potion went splattering across the floor and sizzled as it turned into vapor. Vernon grabbed the child by the shirt collar and held him a foot off the ground. "I am going to flay you, Boy. Maybe that will teach you that freakishness has no place here."..The trembling child was dragged over to the bed and forced onto his belly. The sound of leather snaking through loops reached his ears. Then the belt slammed down on his back. Harry bit his lip and tried to close his mind to the beating as the belt rained down from shoulder to thigh. Crying out was not allowed.

The minutes passed.

Harry's hair was grabbed and his head yanked to the side. Vernon's face was inches away when he snarled, "Freakishness doesn't belong here."

His hair was released and Vernon vacated the room, slamming and locking the door as he went.

Harry lay on the bed for the longest time. Mentally, he had succeeded in what his Uncle had drilled into his head the previous summer: Be silent and pretend you don't exist. But as he began to roll over he found that his body hadn't been as vacant as his mind.

Aching, he crawled under the bed and pried up the loose board. Hidden inside was a wizards first aid kit, one that Harry had assembled himself. He had been tending to his own wounds since he was two. Doing so now came natural to him, though the products he used had changed. Being as he had access to the superior pain killers and bruise balms that he'd either snitched from the Hospital Wing during one of his frequent stays or that he had brewed himself unbeknownst to his mates or Snape, he might as well use them.

Once healed, Harry glanced around his little room. At this moment, an unlockable locked door, and a box that provided food didn't bring the satisfaction it had a few months earlier.

* * *

**Intermission**

_Please imagine the background music of your choice._

Thank you for your continued viewing. We leave it up to you, the viewer to decided which chain of events really happened. In either case...

The two half screens blended into one.

* * *

Harry had had enough. He was done putting up with the way he was treated in this place. Stuffing his belongings into his trunk and whisking Hedwig's empty cage from its perch he marched down the stairs and out the door.

And history continued, much as it has before with peering eyes, a tumble, a raised wand and a gut wrenching ride to a pub in London.

* * *

Credit to where credit's due: The split screen idea came from a wonderful adult comedy series called Coupling. You can find the show on Netflix. I've watched the whole series five times and I find it hilarious everytime. I highly suggest watching it. It has a rating of 8.7 out of 10 on imdb.


	3. Freedom's Grasp

Harry arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. If he wasn't going to get to go to Hogsmeade then he was going to make the best of the time he had before the train returned him to his home, Hogwarts.

As no one was aware he had run away from home he had no one to answer to. He rented a room from Tom the barkeep.

Harry spent a day exploring the shops in the alley, followed by two days site seeing in London, then a few more buying his school supplies and exploring the alley.

* * *

Snape had not heard from the brat in nearly two weeks and it was making him twitchy. The boy was like a teenager on a date, the quieter they are, the more likely they are up to something you don't want them doing.

On this day Snape was procuring some purchases along a few of the roads that branched off Diagon Alley. Serendipity. The Owl Post Office lay between Potions De Laso and Obscura Veste ad Omnia (Dark Attire for All Occasions), two of the places he planned on shopping today.

Snape jotted down a quick note and sent it off with an owl. Ten minutes later when Snape exited Potions de Laso with his order shrunk and safely tucked in his pocket he found the same owl on the ground near his feet with one talon held high.

_The Reply:_

_Dear S.,_

_My summer is going well._

_Sincerely, _

_Mr. Content_

This was not good. Owls did not make it from Surrey and back to London in under ten minutes time. The brat was here, but he wouldn't be for long.

Snape found the wayward teen lapping the quickly melting strawberry ice cream from the side of a cone. "Evanesco." The cone vanished.

"Hey!" Potter exclaimed, before looking up at his glowering professor, "Oh, hello Professor Snape."

"Potter. I see no overflowing brains or tuffs of red near by, so what are you doing here?"

"Relaxing."

"In London?"

"It's as good a place as any."

"Enough of this Potter. How long have you been here and why are you by yourself?"

"I've been at Fortescues for about an hour. It's nice to watch the world go by without having to entrain others with conversation."

"As much as I agree with your assessment of social endeavors your next response will represent the question implied."

"I left the Dursley's. I'm staying at The Leaky Cauldron. I've been there five days."

"Five days too many. Let's get your things."

"What? Why?"

"Don't question me Potter. Let's go."

Harry trotted after Snape, worried that if he didn't keep up with him all of his things would be shrunk and in Snape's pocket before he had a chance to fight for his right to stay.

Harry quickly tried to make a plan to achieve his goal: staying put. "Sir, school starts in nine days. If you allow me to stay I'll finish all of my summer homework and do well on it. Mr. Fortescue has been a great help with the history assignment. I'm sure others in the alley would be willing to give me advice on how to complete the rest of my assignments."

"Just what you need," snarked Snape, "Loads of sugar and the pickings of others brains rather than your own."

Harry persisted, "First hand experience is the best way to learn. Prior to this week I've only spent two days in a wizarding town and I had never been to London other than the train depot."

"All the more reason for you not to be wandering around such places on your own," responded Snape as the two continued toward the barrier between two worlds.

Harry tried again, "With so many witches and wizards around this place must be really safe."

Exasperated, Snape turned to Potter, "Hogwarts is loaded with people Potter. Have you found that causes all of them to be trustworthy?"

Harry looked away chagrined.

"It is no matter. I will not allow you to wander about while an escaped murderer is after you."

"What?! Who's after me? Is Voldemort back?"

Several people flinched and peered about from their bar stools to see who dare speak such a vulgar word.

Snape dropped 3 knuts on the counter and snagged a copy of the Daily Profit. Shoving it in front of Harry's face, he vindictively stated, "Meet your Godfather. He as good as killed your parents, by telling Voldemort where they live. Where you lived."

The headline: **Escaped Convict **topped the page.

Harry paled at first, then angry righteousness took over, "I'll kill him. The coward."

Snape snagged Harry's collar and dragged him up the stairs. Once they were safely away from listening ears and surrounded by a muffliato Snape pulled Harry close, "Watch where you are when you say such things. I desire revenge as well, but spouting such things in public could land you in hot water, should anything befall the person in question. Do you remember the goal I set you in the spring?"

Harry nodded, "Fast food night at Hogwarts."

"And the requirement for this goal?"

"Anonymity. Only you and I are allowed to know who caused it to happen. I take no credit."

"That isn't just a lesson in humility Potter. It's to teach you what it takes to successfully achieve a goal, possibly even those that are less than ethical, without being found out. You have a dark past Potter, and you'll likely have a dark future."

The implications of this "life lesson" didn't entirely sit well with Harry. Or more so, it was the fact that he very much desired to succeeded at this life lesson that disturbed him.

What did it say about him that he desired to be able to competently pull off a potentially nefarious plot without getting caught? Glimpses of Harry's childhood flashed through his mind: nicked food to fill an empty belly, swiped paper and pencils for school work, a toy car obscured by a thin mattress; and the punishments as he was caught doing each.

What achieving this goal meant for Harry was survival.

* * *

Laso: Greek goddess of healing.

If my Latin translation is incorrect feel free to email me the correct version. I used an online program for the translation, but I know they aren't always reliable.


	4. Lines, an Essay and TV

33. I will not try to live on my own until I am of age.  
34. I will not try to live on my own until I am of age.  
35. I will not try to live on my own...

Harry was at Snape's house, which to Harry's surprise was in a muggle neighborhood. Harry had expected Snape to punish him for running away. Instead, he was punishing him for his method of doing so. Harry replayed the conversation in his head.

Harry: I had to get out of that place.

Snape: I never said otherwise. Neither did I ask why you left. If you left you had reason to do so. It will be up to you to decide if your reason for leaving was good enough to never return.

Harry: Why couldn't I stay at The Leaky Cauldron?

Snape: You should have gone to stay with one of your friends. You are not yet an adult. Until that time comes, you will live with an adult. To remind you of that fact you will copy this line two hundred times.

Harry' thoughts returned to the current as he began the next line.

48. I will not try to live on my own until I am of age.  
49. I will not try to live...

Harry's head dropped onto his splayed arms and mumbled, "This is pointless. I know how to take care of myself. I don't seen any reason I shouldn't be able to live on my own."

"You are correct."

Harry's head popped up.

"The lines are a pointless task. But just because you are capable of caring for yourself, does not mean that there are no benefits to living in a household with adults to help care for you."

"What? Laziness and greed? That seems to be all Dudley ever gets from it."

"Since you are unfamiliar with normal family interactions," 'As am I,' thought Snape, internally, "You will do research on the subject and then write a 24 inch essay on the topic, in replace of the lines." A remote control floated across the room and landed in front of Harry. "You may watch four hours of television to familiarize yourself with how other families interact, then you will start on your essay."

And that is how Harry came to find himself ensconced on Snape's couch enjoying a relaxing afternoon of television.

* * *

I am posting three chapters today because two of them are short and they all go together. I'm interested to hear what you think. Let me know if Harry is too retrospective in the next chapter. I may have made Harry too emotional.


	5. The Essay

_A teenage boy sneaks through his bedroom window which he had just pried open. The lights flip on and his Dad stands there glowering. "Where have you been?" he says. According to the TV shows the purpose of living with an adult is so there is someone older there to fix your problems for you, and supposedly so someone knows where you are and cares where you have been. I say these people do not live in the real world and this is not the way things really work._

_One of the main benefits of living with adults is food. Unless a child has inherited money or is old enough to have a job they cannot afford to buy their own. The advertisements indicated that money is the cure all and that if there is enough money available food will be provided and no one will go hungry. I really don't understand this. Through most of human history food was not bought; it was hunted, gathered and grown. Why not move the people in the starving people ads to places where food exist in nature? If any of the parks in Surrey had apple trees I would have picked and eaten them. I lived in a house with money, but still often went hungry because they didn't want to waste money on me. There were also days I had to complete endless hours of chores to earn food. But if the TV shows are to be believed, most families provide sufficient food to their children as long as they are financially able. __I'm not sure the shows can be believed, some adults can be incredibly selfish._

_The second benefit of living with an adult is shelter. Like with the food, unless the child somehow has access to money, they require an adult to provide them with shelter. I understand this need for anyone underage who doesn't have money. I found it a bit confusing that so many series portrayed adult children living with their parents. Why would the adult allow that? Why would the kid want it? The Dursley's would never allow me through the front door a day past when I come of age and I would never purposefully choose to return. Though I suppose it is easier to imagine Dudley slothing around the house in Surrey for the next forty years rather than actually having the ambition to get a job and live on his own. Who would deliver his food to him? buy his games? pamper him to stop the fake tantrums? I suppose he could try for a girlfriend/wife to do such things for him, like how Aunt Petunia is always pampering Vernon. Is that why people get married? Back to the shelter issue. In the shows each of the kid adults living with their parents were going to college, had made poor career choices or had chosen to have children of their own before they could afford to do so. Most of these people would never had needed to move back home if they had planned better or made better choices. But I suppose it would be nice to have an adult you could live with if you screwed up or made poor choices. No one wants to live on the street or in a car, yet many people do because there are a lot of people who don't have an older adult willing to take on their problems when they mess up. I can't imagine I will either, which is why I am learning to handle money now, 'cause even people with lots of money can end up broke and living in a car if they're idiots about how they spend it. One of the famous people on a gossip show I watched today told of an actor that had just happened to. _

Harry paused in his writing, "If I wanted to start investing how would I go about it?"

Snape turned down the top of Magical Digest and looked at Harry, "You are too young to invest."

"But shouldn't I learn now so I don't make my first investment when I'm on my own as an adult?"

"Perhaps."

"So how would I go about it?"

"You'd consult with the goblins at Gringots. But you must make objective decisions when investing, don't just invest on whims."

"Huh?"

"The goal of investing is to make money. Don't invest in something because it "looks cool" invest in things people will buy."

"Oh. Like food?"

"Indubitably"

Snape returned to his article and Harry to his essay.

_The third benefit to living with an adult is that they seem to clean up all the messes. The adults have more experience and want to give kids advice. The kids never seem to want to take the advice, so they end up failing anyway; then the parent is left dealing with the mess. That's why I'm taking advice from an adult now, because there won't be one around when I'm older to clean up my messes. The parents on TV also seem to spend a lot of time cooking, cleaning, doing laundry and transporting kids to and fro. On some of the shows the families even had butlers and maids! Do homes like that really exist? I doubt it. Sometimes it seemed like I was the only one doing chores at the Dursley's, but at Ron's last summer everyone seemed to do a little, then no one was doing too much. So I guess spreading out chores between several people is an okay reason to live with others. All of that stuff can be done by one person, but it's not easy._

_The fourth benefit of living with an adult is that you'll have a nicer place to live (assuming they didn't completely screw up their own lives). On one show the adult kids kept trying (and often succeeded) at moving in with their parents because all they could afford were tiny, dirty apartments in noisy neighborhoods. I can understand wanting to live someplace nicer, but it is not always an option and sometimes you just have to deal with what you get. Walls can be improved with some hand drawn pictures. I used to draw on the walls in my cupboard, when I could manage to sneak in a broken crayon. I have a bigger room now, but the Dursley's still often refer to it as Dudley's second bedroom rather than my room. Sometimes this makes me angry, other times it makes me feel like an intruder in their space and makes me miss the cupboard. Not because I'd want to live in it again, you'd have to be nutters to want to live in a cupboard. But it was the only thing in the house that belonged solely to me. It's hard not having a place where you feel like you belong. But those twinges pass quickly and I appreciate having a space that is big enough for me to walk around in, even if the Dursleys hate having me there. So I do get the desire for not just shelter, but nice shelter. But any place can be cheered up with a bit of art. Art is a way of claiming a place as your own, a way of making it a home. I suppose that is why so many of the kids at Hogwarts put posters up in the dormitories._

Harry paused again, "Does Hogwarts have art classes?"

"No. Why?"

"It'd be fun to make pictures that move."

"How does art pertain to your assignment, aren't you supposed to be writing about the value of living with adults?"

"Yes, sir. But isn't part of that having a place that is decorated to look nice?"

Both Snape and Harry glanced around the dreary sitting room. "I wouldn't know."

"Maybe if there were art classes at Hogwarts you could buy some of the students' art."

"Buy?"

"Yeah. We could have an art show or an auction or something. Maybe that is how we could get the funds for Fast Food Night."

"Potter, there is no art class at Hogwarts."

"There used to be wasn't there? It'd be fun if there was again!"

"School isn't supposed to be fun. It is supposed to be educational."

"But isn't it also supposed to prepare you to be on your own?"

"How exactly would art classes help with that?"

"You could learn how to make a house look nice. If wood working was taught you could learn how to build things for your house." Harry recalled an add for a documentary, maybe he could use a quote form the ad to convince Snape Hogwarts needed art classes. "Isn't art supposed to increase cultural awareness and acceptance of others?"

Harry finally had Snape's full attention.

Harry continued, "Art and music are the thread that unite us all, the cord that can draw people of varying backgrounds together," at least that is what the ad for the documentary had said, and if repeating it made Snape more likely to try to get an art class at Hogwarts then Harry would say it. Magical art would be a really interesting class. Harry had enjoyed art class in elementary school. He even occasionally managed to sneak a picture into his cupboard without Dudley destroying it.

"Interesting, how cogitated of you."

"Huh?"

"Aren't you supposed to be working on an essay?"

"Yes, sir," Harry bent to his task.

Snape began to cogitate the benefits of the arts for his Slytherin's. Could that be the element that was missing to derail his Slytherins from their beliefs of pure blood superiority? Could it in turn make the other House's more accepting of the Snakes? His yaw toward _The Dark Side _had been due to a lack of acceptance. His drunk father hated him. His mother's spirit had been worn away by his father. Lily had turned her back on him. That left him with the sibilant tongue of the leader of Those Who Follow Blindly.

The Dark Lord would have made a wonderful Cub Scout leader if it weren't for the sadistic nature of their activities. They had uniforms (mask and black robes), and badges (tattoo) to make them feel accepted as part of a group. They were taught new skills (torture spells). They were given task (bribe him; hurt them) and were praised for their successes. They even went on fieldtrips (raids). Their scout leader may be on hiatus at the moment, but he was trying to return and many former members would flock to him upon his return, seeking acceptance and the feeling of being part of a group that acted as one. It was a seductive feeling to be part of something.

As head of Slytherin, and pseudo parent to the teens in green, it was his job to sidetrack them into a less violent group. Perhaps it was time for the arts to return to Hogwarts.

Snape took up a piece of parchment and began to compose a letter for the Daily Profit. It was time for L. Grant to pick up his quill.

* * *

Author's Note: The shows "Harry" was thinking about as he wrote the essay were The Cosby Show and The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, because those were the shows I was watching back then. Were those shows on TV in the UK in the early 90's?


	6. Fear and Art

The carriages arrived at the castle and Harry was escorted by Madame Pomfrey to the Hospital Wing.

"I hear you had an encounter with the Dementors. How are you feeling?"

Harry suppressed a shudder and the memory of his mother's voice, "I'm fine Madame Pomfrey, really. Professor Lupin was on the train. He chased the dementor off and gave us all chocolate."

"Hmm. Well that will take away the chill, but not necessarily the memories. Take this vial with you. It is dreamless sleep. Take a sip before you go to sleep tonight."

"Yes ma'me." Harry took the vial and headed down to the feast.

* * *

As the meal ended, Dumbledore began the announcements. "...A new elective has been added to the courses available to students. Hogwarts is proud to announce the rejuvenation of the Art Department. Classes will be available on painting, wood crafts, music and theater. Some of these activities will also be available as extra curricular groups. Those of you interested in participating need only sign your name on the sign up sheets in your common room or personally inform the new Professors of your interest."

Snape smirked, his letter to The Daily Profit had done wonders. Pure-bloods did not appreciate being compared to muggles. The article had focused on how both muggle and magical schools alike had been eliminating the arts from their curriculum due to a lack of funding. It also included descriptions of the benefits of the different types of art forms. Within four days funding for Hogwarts' Art Department had been supplied by wealthy pure-bloods in the form of donations. Dumbledore had been pressured into acting immediately and new professors had been hired to teach Magical Arts and Crafts, Music and Theater.

Since one of these investors was Lucius Malfoy, Draco had no choice in the matter; he would be taking part in the arts, as would many other Slytherins. Snape needed his Slytherin's to develop independence from their parents if they were ever to be averted from their path toward /The Dark Side. Getting them involved in the arts would hopefully help them to develop some of this independence. With any luck, it would also make the other Houses more tolerant of Slytherin.

Dumbledore finished his speech and the students shuffled off to bed.

* * *

**The Article**

_**A Future Without Art is a Muggle Future**_

Gone are the artisans of the past. Our future, like our muggle counterparts, lays in standardized furniture made in a factory. Identical images of flowers and nature scenes in every picture frame. Dishware indistinguishable from one mage's home to the next. We, like our non-magical brethren have proclaimed the arts to be a waste of funds, and so the programs have vanished from muggle and magical schools alike.

Once our children were instructed on how to carve intricate images with a wand. They could pour a potion on stone and use their mind to control which bites the potion ate away from the marble, leaving behind majestic sculptures. The portraits and paintings they crafted adorn the walls of Hogwarts and St. Mungos. But new artwork has been in short supply in recent decades and these skills will soon be lost to time if we do not invest in the knowledge of the young.

What are your plans for this evening? For the next? and the one after that? Night after night of playing chess, reading or dining with friends. All admiral endeavorers. But what of the nights at the theater? Shouldn't we be insisting that our children's school instruct them in the performing arts?

Now I am not suggesting that schooling should be merely for students to prepare themselves to entertain adults or to make our homes more beautiful. To the contrary, school is supposed to prepare them for life. Our students learn many great skills at Hogwarts, but rarely are they given the chance to utilize those skills outside of a classroom. What is the purpose of learning how to animate a sketch in Charms if their pictures look childish? What is the use of arithmetic computations if they haven't the social skills to hold a business meeting? Theater classes will allow our young to apply the skills they have learned outside of lessons and it will provide them with the chance to engage in mock social situations before we hand over the keys and money to the family business.

I implore you help fund the rejuvenation of Hogwarts' Art Department, for I fear if we do not our future lies in congruence with the muggles, in a series of identical homes and adult children knocking at our door, asking for a place to stay because they lack the ability to apply the skills they spent so much time learning.

Submitted by The Society for Wizard Culture (SWC)


	7. Learning From Our Past

The students found their seats and some checked their pockets for their shrunken pillows. Could history class ever be anything other than a good place to snore? Some of the students hoped the new professor would be better than Binns. Others hoped they wouldn't lose their nap time.

On the board were scrolled the words:

_History__  
The purpose of this course is to learn of the mistakes and successes of those that came before us, so that we can mimic their successes and avoid their failures._

Well that was different. Most of them had been positive that the purpose of history class was to memorize boring facts.

"Welcome. My name is Professor Stewart. What is history but a series of stories? This year you will be hearing those stories and analyzing what can be learned from them and used by you in the future."

Attendance was taken by the tall, bald wizard, then he continued with the lesson. "The disillusioned archer crept through the woods. The plan, if it worked, would make his clan, the Erksdales, very wealthy. The fortress in front of him was well protected by magical wards and at all times three sentries stood guard over the domain. The archer notched an arrow on the bow string and aimed for a sentry. The poisoned arrow took flight and planted deep in the sentry's heart. His body tumbled forward, off the wall. Silencing spells prevented others from hearing the body fall and a disillusionment charm made the body vanish. The archer, heart racing with the thrill of success, continued his trek around the grey stone and took out the remaining two sentries."

The professor half performed, half strolled as he wove the tale, "The Erksdales' clan emerged from the wood, canceling their disillusionment charms. The castle may be magically protected, but the brewery outside the castle wall was protected by only the most basic of charms that any twelve year old could surpass."

Ron, Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and grinned in remembrance of what they surpassed when they were 11 and 12.

"The barrels of valuable ale were levitated from their stances and floated across the pasture, and then several more miles back to the Erksdale's stronghold. With the heist complete the clan celebrated with a great feast, nearly depleting the castle's supplies." Professor Stewart held his hand high as though lifting a goblet in salutè.

"The Erksdales and the Flinwoods had been enemies for centuries and so knew retaliation would be likely. The back of the Erksdales' castle was built into a mountain. The fortress had but one entrance, the front gate. The wards had been improved in preparation of retaliation. Apparition was impossible. Flooing had yet to be invented. And the new wards protected against muggle as well as magical means so their own tactics couldn't be used against them."

"The Flinwoods were not a violent people by nature and they were a far cry from the conquering sort. But they were also not ones to lay down quietly and accept an attack and theft. They gathered their forces and set into motion a plan that had been laying in wait for just such an occasion. The members of the two clans were known well to each other. So it was a shock to the Erksdales when on the rise they spied 50 of the weakest members of the Flinwoods' clan, a bagpiper, an accordion player and a flutest."

The professor flicked his wand at the Victrola and the students slammed their hands over their ears as a horrid noise blasted through the room. It seemed to go on forever, though it was only thirty seconds before the professor relented. "Magnification charms amplified the music, but instead of the beautiful tones usually admitted by these instruments horrible, disjointed sounds emerged and blasted through the air. The Erksdales couldn't escape the awful noise. By design they had made their home so no enemy could enter, but it also meant no one was able to exit. The archer shot an arrow at the accordion player, but the arrow bounced off the castle's wards. No spells or mundane weaponry could penetrate the barriers in either direction. The music played on giving headaches to all, except to the Flinwoods whose ears were stuffed with wool."

"Finally, the Erksdales, were irked enough to send out a ban of warriors to defeat the weaklings sent by the Flinwoods. The two groups flung spells at each other and the Flinwoods were forced back several meters, but oddly, it was the bodies of the Erksdales that lay dead or dying on the ground." The Victrola sprang to life and the students again covered their ears and silently cursed this new, strange teacher. Thankfully, he cast a second spell and lowered the volume. They could still hear the screeching notes, but the sound was muted. "The musicians continued to blast their tune and more Erksdales came out to battle. Again the Flinwoods retreated, but yet again the Erksdales lost more of their people. Irked beyond belief the Erksdales sent all abled bodied witches and wizards out defeat this small force of weaklings. As the last of them took after the Flinwoods who continued to back away the music suddenly changed." Professor Stewart flicked his wand and the strong noble tunes of the bagpipes and flute, played gracefully, floated from the Victrola. "This was the cue to the Flinwoods that all of their strongest witches and wizards, who had been disillusioned both within the weaklings ranks and to the far left and right of the weaklings, cancelled their disillusionment spells, surrounded their enemy and attacked with full force. The Erksdales were unprepared for a battle that came from all sides, but they still did their best to defend themselves, flinging spells at their enemy. Two hours later many lay dead, but only Flinwoods were left standing. They regrouped and the horrid notes again blasted the air." The Victrola was switched back to the awful tunes.

"Those inside the Erksdales stronghold were beside themselves. They were devastated by the loss of so many of their clan members. Their supplies were running thin due to the great feast celebrating the success of the heist. The awful screeching noises pounded in their heads. There was no way out except the front gate and the Flinwoods were prepared to attack anyone who exited that gate. It took but three days of grief, headaches and lack of food for those inside to conclude that the Flinwoods had no intention of leaving and that it was time to relinquish their bounty. The barrels of ale were levitated from the storage rooms and glided out the front door, with a paper attached: Please accept our truce. We no longer wish to fight each other. It was signed by the Erksdales' clan leader. The leader of the Flinwoods signed the document. That was the last day the two clans battled. Their truce continues to this day."

Professor Stewart turned the Victrola off and looked about the room.

A student raised their hand and asked, "So what lesson are we supposed to learn?"

Professor Stewart shrugged, "You tell me."

"But aren't you supposed to tell us?"

A different student called out, "Well isn't it obvious? The lesson is don't own valuable things, they'll just get stolen and that will lead to conflict."

Another student responded, "Well that's absurd. You think people should never attempt to own anything nice because it will attract thieves? The real lesson was protect your valuables. Can you teach us warding spells Professor?"

Professor Stewart nodded. "For our next class, everyone bring something not valuable that you can practice warding spells on."

A Ravenclaw called out, "But this is history class. We're supposed to be learning facts."

"Ms. Williams, please read the purpose of this class."

"The purpose of this course is to learn of the mistakes and successes of those that came before us, so that we can mimic their successes and avoid their failures."

Professor Stewart responded, "So far we have learned to not leave valuable things out in the open, which is why you will be bringing non-valuable items to our next class and we've learned that valuable items should be protected, so you will be learning warding spells."

Another student who had been agitatedly tapping his quill on the desk finally blurted out, "But that wasn't even the point of the story! The lesson was that you can draw out an enemy by putting the weaklings on the front line."

Then various other voices piped up.

A deep voice boomed, "You've got to be kidding me! The lesson was surround your enemy."

Someone near the window called out, "It was don't barricade yourself in so thoroughly that there is no way to escape!"

A boy with a red tie said, "I thought it was things may not always be as they seem."

A girl with a raven crest responded, "It was always have plenty of supplies on hand."

"Well it can't be all of them!" Finally, a frustrated Gryfindor looked over at the professor who was casually leaning against his desk. "Professor, who's right? What was the lesson?"

The professor lifted one shoulder and let it fall. "Everyone was right."

"But that can't be! There is always a right and a wrong answer," the same student responded.

"What is the purpose of this course?" replied Professor Stewart.

The student gave a slight huff, but paraphrased the line. "To learn of the mistakes and successes of those that came before us, so that we can mimic their successes and avoid their failures."

"Each of us may learn a different lesson and choose to apply it in a different way. By discussing each of those lessons you'll each gain ideas from each other that you can then apply to events in your life. Someone mentioned don't barricade yourself in. How can you apply that lesson to your life?"

Harry was tempted to raise his hand, but kept his thoughts to himself instead, "If my parents had had another escape route they might still be a live."

Other students raised their hands.

"You could build secret passages in your home."

Another suggested, "It could be taken less literal, like don't get so focused on one facet of something or one project that you forget everything else that is important." The student looked over at a cute Ravenclaw, "For example, some of the Ravenclaws barricade themselves in the library and forget the benefits of relationships. I can help you with Dorbet. Would you like to join me for a stroll by the lake?"

Dorbet blushed.

"Ah," Professor Stewart interrupted, "Another lesson to be learned. Never ask someone out in front of others." The class giggled. "It leaves too many people around to judge their decision, which will often result in them making no decision at all or the opposite one of what you wish. Some of you had other insights from the story, but our time grows short. Please remember to bring your non-valuable item to our next class. Your homework is to write a minimum of 6 and maximum of 12 inches on a specific aspect of the story, what you learned from it, and how you intend to apply that lesson in your life."

Hermione frowned, "Why are you limiting the length?"

"You are more likely to apply a single lesson than a dozen. Does anyone else have a question?"

"Professor Stewart, when did this incident take place?"

"What does it matter?"

The Ravenclaw's brain froze, he could hardly speak, "Wh.. what does it matter?" Then his brain jumped into action, "This is a history course! One event in history may effect another you need to know when each happens so you know how they relate to each other."

"Well argued, and there may be stories told this year that will relate in such a way. But that is not this day. Everyone have a lovely afternoon and we will see you on Wednesday."

* * *

By Tuesday evening everyone had attended at least one of Professor Stewart's classes. The Ravenclaw's were befuddled by the lack of book work and facts to look up, but found the debates very engaging. The Slythern's had a new glow in their eye. This new history class was meant for them; it was a class on how to be cunning! The Hufflepuffs identified with the characters that achieved their goals through loyalty and hard work and enjoyed that the brief assignments left them with ample time to work on other projects. The Gryfindor's (with the exception of Hermione) were ecstatic about the short assignments and were excited to be learning spells in history class!

Pillows were left forgotten on beds, never again to be shrunken to take to class, at least not to Professor Stewart's history course.

* * *

Historical background information:  
The battle tactics used in the Flinwoods/Erksdales tale were loosely based off real tactics I've seen on documentaries or in the news.

Hannibal was a great general. He once won a battle against the Romans by putting his weakest forces in the middle and having them slowly retreat. The Roman's thinking they were winning, pushed forward and continued to attack the weaker force. Then at just the right moment, Hannibal's cavalry, whom the Romans had thought had permanently fled the field, returned and surrounded the Romans on all sides.

In 1989 the U.S. used heavy metal music against their enemy in Panama. More recently, pop music has been used against Somali pirates.

Instruments like the bagpipes and drums have been used in many battles to signal to the troops of when to implement various tactics.


	8. Hidden Notes

Snape was on a roll with disposing of incompetent teachers, but now that Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts getting rid of the others may not be feasible. He was able to deter most of his Slytherins away from the fortuneteller fraud, but there were always a few that were too dimwitted to understand the glare he sent them as they turned in their schedule choice. There also tended to be those that thought knowing the future would be helpful in achieving their ambitions. Those numbskulls refused to acknowledge that you are either a seer or you are not. Many did eventually figure it out and drop the class, but a few would stay in hopes of discovering the identity of a 'true' seer that they could "befriend".

Snape had used the glare on Harry that summer during the week Harry had spent in his home. The thirteen year old had quickly backtracked and wisely chosen to switch to arithmancy. Harry had mailed his friend and the red head begrudgingly switched courses as well so that the two of them wouldn't be separated. Apparently Snape's insists a few days earlier regarding relying on your own brain rather than others had gone straight through the brats empty skull. The annoying miscreant was maintaining their pattern of exchanging letters that Snape had unwittingly started that spring. This one he had found tucked in amongst the most recent homework assignments.

_Dear S.,_

_History class is so cool! We learned a warding spell on Wednesday. Today we heard about some wizards that defeated a giant by tripping him up with invisible ropes. I didn't even know giants were real! Do they live around here? Professor Stewart doesn't go into much detail on the where and when of things. Anyway, our homework is to contrive a situation in which making an object invisible could help us solve a problem. What does contrive mean? _

_I'm not sure what to think of arithmancy. I always liked maths so the work is alright, but how can it be that a word or name has a magical number value? I mean, I understand how to do the math it's just I don't get why it should work. Is it like with spells, that the word you say has to match your wand movements? Plus, the first thing she had us do was tell her a poem like sentence about something that happened to us this summer. Then she demonstrated how to change it into a prediction. I told her, "Yellow eyes gleamed through the darkness." She did a bunch of stuff with it then claimed it means I'm going to die young. That just creeped me out. That can't be right, can it? I mean how can the spelling of things predict the future. I'm not sure I care much for this class. I'll try it for awhile, but I may switch to ancient runes._

_The art class wasn't as fun as I hoped, at least not yet. According to Professor / we need to learn things like the proper way to sketch and the proper way to hold a paint brush and the proper way to do this and that. Does she think we are all aiming to be professional artist? Perhaps there is something to that words matching people thing 'cause the teacher's name is actually Techne and she seems exceedingly technical about how things are done. I guess it will be awhile before we get to the spell casting part of art class, but hopefully next time we'll get to actually draw something rather than just practicing techniques._

_Professor Lupin taught us how to deal with a bogart. Ron imagined a spider on roller skates. I've never been roller skating. Do wizards have skating rinks? The best one was when, ah, um, well never mind about that. But the class was a lot of fun and I can't wait for the next one._

_Sincerely,_

_Mr. Fuss_

_P.S. I really like the sticky notes. They make it easier to follow the recipe._

_Expenses:  
3 Pumpkin Pasties 9 knuts  
6 Chocolate Frogs 12 knuts  
various other sweets on the train 2 galleons, 3 sickles_

_savings:  
£32.11_

Well at least the brat had the wits not to bring up the bogart emerging as a cross dressing Snape. People avoided saying anything about it directly to  
Snape, but it was impossible to not overhear the murmured conversations when so many of the students and staff were having a good laugh over it.

_Dear Mr. Fuss,_

_You will order a dictionary from Flourish and Blots. I have attached an order form. You will not need to count the cost of the dictionary against your allowance unless you fail to procure (purchase) it within three days. _

_You are supposed to be contriving a plan for Fast Food Night. If you can't figure out its meaning from that then ask the bookworm. _

_Arithmancy is about the relationship between two people or events. Certain combinations have been found to be more beneficial than others. For example, you may use arithmancy to decide which night is best for Fast Food Night. Arithmancy is not typically used to make such clear predictions as what Professor Vector contrived with your sentence. You, being who you are, will attract attention and people will inevitably try to bring attention to themselves by making remarkable statements about you. Stick with the class, learn the math and use it to your advantage. Ignore or try to find ways to, in turn, use those who try to benefit from your fame. _

_As to art, you had to learn to count before you could add, and had to learn the alphabet before you could write, so to in art you must first learn to hold a brush before you can paint anything worth putting in a frame. Be patient._

_Regarding roller skating, your dorm mates are a better choice for inquisitions regarding free time activities of teenagers._

_Sincerely,_

_S._

P.S. They're called brewing instructions. Recipes are for food.

* * *

Harry found the response tucked inside the scroll of his returned essay. Though he tried not to show it, he was secretly thrilled. It had been difficult the first two years of school seeing everyone else getting and sending letters from and to family members. But now he had someone too that was curious enough to read about what he'd been up to and was willing to take the time to respond to it. He filled out the form and sent Hedwig to Flourish and Blots to retrieve a dictionary.

* * *

Techne: The Greek Personification of art and skill.


	9. Hermione's Forbidden Quest

"That great oaf, bringing that monstrous bird to class! What was he thinking?!"

Crab and Goyle shrugged in response to Draco's rant.

"Well I'm telling my father. He'll see to it that that over grown eagle gets its head chopped off and with any luck, he'll get the oaf kicked off the grounds too."

The three boys continued on their way to their next class from the Hospital Wing, Draco adjusting the strap on the cast supporting his "injured" arm.

* * *

Hermione, who had been hidden around the corner, preparing to use the time turner to attend Ancient Ruins, was steaming. She'd never been so angry. Rules be demanded, she was going to do something Forbidden. With three turns of her pendant she was zapped back in time to two hours before the Care of Magical Creatures class.

Hermione located the twins as quickly as she was able. "I need a favor."

"What, a book report?" Fred asked.

"A research project?" retorted George.

"A week of perfect behavior?" came Fred's voice.

"A co..."

"No. A prank," flatly stated _The Bookworm._

"Oh, ho..."

"Dear sister, you want to break the rules?"

"Who'd you have in mind?"

"Do you know what you want done?"

Their voices sounded identical to Hermione. She had no idea which one had said what, so she spoke to them both. "I've had all that I can take of Malfoy today. Could you see to it that he misses his afternoon classes?"

"Consider it done."

"We're at your service."

The twins disappeared as quick as a muggle magician disappearing in a flash of smoke.

* * *

An hour later at lunch Draco's robes suddenly switched to sky blue with clouds and rainbows. "Ahh! Who did this?" Draco looked around the room looking for the guilty party, but no one looked guilty, they all were too busy laughing to look guilty. Draco scowled and stomped off to his dorm.

Hermione giggled, "What did you do to him?"

"It's a spell generally used by mothers on baby clothes to make sure the little ones always look cute," explained Fred.

"Yeah, but we modified it so the spell connected to his skin instead of his robes," continued George.

"Cute pictures will show up on everything he puts on for the next 24 hours, even his boxers."

"So, unless he wants to walk around starkers or in clothes with cute pictures, he's going to be hiding out in his dorm for the next day."

Hermione giggled again. She received a few odd looks. Hermione usual chastised people who played pranks, it was strange to see her laugh about one.

* * *

Harry flew through the sky on Buckbeak, laughing in delight. He landed in the paddock near Haggrid.

"Great job Harry!"

"Thanks Hagrid."

"A'right, who's next?"

"I'll have a go, Hagrid." Ron approached Buckbeak and bowed respectfully. Buckbeak returned the bow and Ron clambered on.

By the end of class five others had taken a ride and all of the students were thrilled with this new experience.

* * *

Back in the Slytherin's boy's dormitory a pile of robes grew ever higher as Draco desperately tried to find something to wear that didn't instantly switch from being classy to being covered in lambs, baby chicks, or, to his horror, roaring lions. He'd even tried on one of Goyel's robes, but had ripped it off the moment a pink bunny carrying a basket of eggs began to hop across the front. The last straw came when he removed the trousers decorated with giraffes, only to find that his briefs, his briefs for Merlin's sake had upon them mum ducks and their ducklings swimming around in ponds. Draco dove under his covers, buried his head in his pillow, and..., "Arrrghh!" Unbeknownst to him, a picture of a kitten playing with a ball of yarn had appeared on his bedspread.

* * *

Author's Note: I posted two chapters today, so if you started with this one make sure to go back and read the previous one. Thanks! I hope you enjoy! :)


	10. A Turn in the Path

**September**

Harry spied the dog near the stands. It was the same dog from Little Whinging, he was sure of it.

Cloaked figures swooped in from above. Harry's sight vanished. Suddenly, he was a year old standing in a crib, blood dripping down his face as he screamed and cried for his dead Mum and Da, then the vision continued and Harry saw what had came after.

"Harry! Harry!" Harry heard his name like a vague whisper, but was unable to move toward the sound. Darkness enveloped him and a sun and a moon passed before he woke.

Harry never spoke of what he saw in the vision invoked by the Dementors, but he did, in secret, sketch out his next privilege, goal and plan.

* * *

I apologize. The next few chapters are short. The events happen a month apart, so I am posting them a day a part to simulate the time delay between events.


	11. Dogfather

**October**

Harry was out for an afternoon flight, no goal in mind, no Quiditch practice, just flying for the sake of flying. Far below he spied a dog. The dog. Harry flew lower. The dog yipped then picked up a stick and began to run around with it, wagging his tale as he ran. The dog ran away and then toward Harry again, jumping and barking and all together happy. Harry touched down. "Here boy." The dog ran over, dropped the stick on the ground and then quivered with energy, waiting for the stick to be thrown. Harry obliged and the dog took off. They continued their play until with one throw the stick landed in the woods and the dog took after it. Harry didn't think the dog was going to come back, but then it burst out of the woods and dropped not a stick, but a scroll on the ground. The dog nudged it with his nose, then retreated back into the woods, not to return.

Harry picked up the scroll then plopped down on to the ground. At first it appeared that it was just a piece of transfiguration homework, but when Harry flipped it over he found a letter.

Harry read...

_Dear Harry,_

Peter Pettigrew was the...

_Sincerely,_

_Your Dogfather_

The letter put a name to a face and confirmed somethings he already suspected. But how to act on the information?

Harry withdrew his secret PGP (Privilege, Goal, Plan) folder, the one that even Snape didn't know about, from his pocket, unshrunk it and began to sketch.


	12. Rat in a Cage

**November**

The night grew dark. Harry crept from his bed. He hated that he was about to spend the next... who knew who long, lying to his best friend. But somethings were more important. He'd have to hope that he could pull off his goal and that when he did Ron would understand.

Harry mentally reviewed his sketches, tucked away in the shrunken PGP folder. He was going to use his history lessons to his advantage.

* * *

_Disguise things as other than what they are._

Harry carefully opened his trunk. He pulled out the package of "owl" treats. In reality, he had paid an extra 3 galleons to have the pet store empty the container, fill it with rat food and to shrink a rat cage and hide it deep in the container.

* * *

_A sleeping enemy is easier to trap._

Harry cast a sleeping spell on the dozing rat, to ensure he remained asleep.

* * *

_Don't barricade yourself in so thoroughly that there is no escape..._

_Or in this case, do barricade your enemy in so thoroughly that _they_ can't escape._

Harry cast an unbreakable charm on the cage. He carefully lifted Pettigrew and placed him inside the cage. Once the cage was locked he cast locking and sealing spells on the door that would not open with an alohamora. Harry thought of the Cerberus, Fluffy, hidden behind a poorly locked door.

* * *

_Ward your valuables._

The rat didn't hold value in galleons. No, he was much, much more valuable than money. Harry cast a series of warding spells on the cage.

* * *

_Invisibility spells can be used to solve some problems._

Harry cast disillusionment spells on the cage and everything in it.

* * *

_Conceal your actions._

The invisibility cloak fluttered over Harry, concealing him from sight. He clutched the cage and stole out of the dormitory, through the common room, out the portrait hole and up to the owlery. Beneath a bench, in the furthest corner he placed the cage. And there the rat would sit until he was needed in the plan.

* * *

_Use sound and fear as weapons._

Wings flapped and fluttered. The captive shivered and shrunk back into the corner of his cell. A rat trapped in an owlery is akin to a man in Azkaban.

* * *

_Lesson from the: I Know Nothing About Families essay: Normal people do not starve their children, or in this case, their captives._

Ron worried over Scabbers disappearance. He peeked under beds and over curtain rods. Behind books and in piles of clothes. But Scabbers was nowhere to be seen.

The twins tried to reassure, chiming in, in chorus, "He was boring." "Usless." "Not a loss worth worrying about."

His sister patted his shoulder and comforted him, "He was an old rat Ron. He probably just wandered off to die in peace."

Harry looked on guilty and consoled, "You were a great owner Ron, always holding him and caring for him. I don't pay nearly enough attention to Hedwig. I think I'lll start making it a habit." With his excuse in place, he had a valid reason to increase his visits to the owlery. He was willing to capture and concealing his parents pseudo killer, but he would never starve a creature, horrid or not. That would just make _him_ horrid and he refused to be like the Dursleys.

* * *

_Another History Lesson: The combatants will continue to battle until the general tells them the fight is done._

Dear Dogfather,

Do NOT come back for the rat. He has been dealt with. Keep hidden.

Yours,

General H.J.

* * *

I'll be posting two chapters together on the next post and I promise they are longer. I know short post can be frustrating, but each of these last few chapters seemed to be each their own thing and when you post several chapters at once people will sometimes skip straight to the end and not realize they missed a step.

Thanks for for reading and I hope you are enjoying the tale.


	13. Caught!

**December**

The map, gifted by the twins, guided Harry to Hogsmeade. Hiding under his cloak he enjoyed a day with his friends, snacking on junk food, exploring stores and the coup de gras: throwing muddy snowballs at Malfoy. But that is when it all went wrong. Harry's hood slipped down and Malfoy saw him. Malfoy, who had teased Harry about his lack of a permission form hightailed it back to the castle to tattle.

Harry likewise hightailed it back, but through the secret tunnels rather than overground. He ripped the invisibility cloak off and did his best to appear nonchalant as he strolled through the hall away from the statue of the humped back witch.

* * *

Lupin was wandering the castle when his wolf nose picked up the scent of his cub and the scent was full of nerves.

"Potter!"

That was definitely Snape and he didn't sound happy. Not that he ever did. But he sounded particularly _not happy_. Lupin hurried his steps. As he came around the corner he heard Snape again.

"Care to tell me where you've been?"

"I've been here, sir. In the castle." Harry's voice came out raspy and with a squeak at the end.

"Why hello, Severus," Lupin approached, "Harry I really enjoyed that cup of tea we shared. We shall have to do that again soon."

Harry looked up at Lupin gratefully.

Snape glowered at Lupin then glanced down at Harry, "Go to the potions lab. Start cleaning."

Harry's face fell.

"Immediately."

Harry gulped, "Yes, sir." Harry turned and moved at a half jog toward the dungeons.

Snape turned to Lupin, "I know it's your instinct to protect members of your pack," Snape stated snidely, "But you may want to consider putting more effort in protecting him from your murdering pack member rather than from a few hours of scrubbing. No one knew Potter had left the castle, which means no adult was watching his back."

Lupin stared slack jawed as Snape billowed toward the dungeon. Then a weight of guilt hit Lupin's gut. He'd gone with instinct, lying for his friend's son; but he hadn't given even the slightest thought to Harry's welfare, while it seemed Snape had.

* * *

Harry had a rag and was scrubbing old crusty bits of dried potion off one of the lab tables. BANG! The door slammed and a whirlwind of magic sealed the doors and silenced any noise from within to those without.

"You call that lying!? How do you ever expect to be able to pull off something big if you can't even manage a jaunt to Hogsmeade!"

Harry was staggered, first by Snape's entrance, then by the fact that he was being berated for being a crappy liar.

"A six year old could lie better than you!" Snape ticked off his fingers, "Squeaky voice. Short of breath. Looking gratefully at someone covering for you. Sweat for Merlin's sake. You do remember you're a wizard don't you? Use a drying spell if you must, but don't you ever fail so miserably again at concealing your illicit activities!"

Harry still couldn't get his tongue wrapped around a word so Snape continued his tirade.

"You need acting lessons. You'll be joining the theater class after winter break. Don't question me on this Potter, you're dong it. Do you know what visualization is?" Without even a moments breath Snape went on. "Of course you don't. From now on before you do anything like you did today you will practice a visualization of how you will handle getting caught. It needs to include what you'll say, how you'll say it, and your body language. You must predict the questions they will ask you so you will be able to answer them.

"Consider yourself warned that you best have plausible answers when I ask for them. Now get cleaning. When I get back your responses had better have improved."

The magical barriers dissipated and Snape exited in a swirl of robes.


	14. Goal, Privilege, Plan

...

* * *

Four minutes passed. Harry stood frozen staring at the door. Finally his brain kicked into gear. Snape had issued him a goal. Harry needed to devise a plan and execute it quickly.

What questions will Snape be likely to ask when he returns? Probably the same one from twenty minutes ago. But this time Snape was likely to follow the question up with a punishment for going to Hogsmeade while Sirius Black was still loose and after him.

Harry knew Sirius was innocent, but he wasn't prepared to share that information today. Proving Sirius's innocence was going to take proof. Harry was determined to prove his Dogfather's innocence. Snape had told him that contriving such plots required anonymity if they were to be pulled off and nothing was going to stop Harry from achieving this goal and the privilege of a new home. If it meant he had to deal with being punished then so be it.

But Snape had also made a stance on his proclivity toward rewarding achieved goals with privileges. Harry likely had an hour, two at most before Snape returned. Maybe, just maybe if he achieved the goal Snape had just set him he'd get off light.

Harry was nervous about using magic to complete a detention. If Snape caught him... But last summer, and again today Snape had reminded him that he is a wizard and that magic should be used to achieve goals.

"Tergeo." Harry repeated the cleaning spell several times, pointing his wand at various stains and splatters on the first table. He'd spell one table clean every ten minutes until Snape returned.

With the first table done Harry gathered the ingredients, cauldron and stirrer need for brewing a calming draught. He was still a ball of nerves from the run back from Hogsmeade and soon Snape would be back to rile him up before seeing if he could give a passable lie. A calming draught would be necessary if he was going to get through round two, especially considering the number of things he was keeping from Snape at the moment.

Harry brewed the draught and spelled tables clean. As he worked he visualized the potential conversations and lies he'd be telling. He used a cooling charm on the potion, drank it and quickly, but calmly put everything away.

* * *

Snape sat at his table, drumming his fingers. 80 minutes had passed. The boy had better have devised better lies by now. If not he was going to find it mighty difficult to sit this evening.

* * *

"At least the brat is capable of learning some lessons," Snape muttered in his mind as he was assailed by the aroma of calming draught and the gleam of tergeod tables. "Time for intimidation." Snape walked over to his desk and pulled out the paddle he had used on Harry the previous spring.

"It is time we deal with your punishment for endangering your life. I believe the standard is six swats."

"Danger sir? I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what you are referring to. I've been working on my Transfiguration essay. I can go get it if you'd like to see it.".

"Is there someone that can verify this? Did anyone see you working on it?"

"I'm sorry sir, no I was alone. The common room tends to be noisy, even with just the first and second years around."

"Then shouldn't Madame Pince be able to confirm your presence in the library?"

"I'm sorry sir, I wasn't there either." Harry drew a finger across his scar, "People whisper and stare, sir. It's easier to work alone. I found an empty room and I've been using it for studying. I didn't see any people in that part of the castle today, but perhaps one of the portraits could confirm I was there."

Snape gave a small nod. "Bravo. This performance was much better than your earlier one. You still need the acting classes, but you did well enough to get your punishment cut in half. Now over the table."

Harry complied and prepared himself for the three hits. At least this time he had more clothing to protect him and Snape seemed to be skipping the hand spanking; that was a relief.

CRACK! "Hisss! Ow!" Harry's vision faded for a moment as all of his senses were on the pain in his rear. Perhaps there was a purpose to the hand spanking. The paddle was a shock to the system when there was no prior build up.

Harry waited for the second hit, but it didn't come. The paddle rested on his bum and Snape spoke, "What precautions did you take to protect yourself in case you came across Black today?"

"I practiced diffindo and bombarda, sir."

"Hmm. A lie. But a well stated one. One more to go." Snape pulled the paddle back and swung down again.

Harry was more prepared for this one. By bitting his lip he managed to let out no more than a whimper.

"Risking your life and taking no precautions to protect it is not allowed. You have a brain and the ability to use it. Failing to do so again will earn you six to your backside, good lie or no. Now stand up. You're about to get a lesson in protective and defensive spells."

Harry gave his bum a rub to help dissipate the sting. Robin pulled out his holly and Phoenix feather wand in preparation for his first lesson in defense from Batman.

* * *

It may be a few days until the next update. I went about this story in a different way. I wrote the beginning and the end and I've been working towards the middle. Now were at the middle and I'm still working on writing it. I have my goal, plan and privilege in mind, but achieving them is still in the works.


	15. Twas the Night

'Twas the night before classes, when all through the castle,  
Few creature was stirring, owls to mice were a hassle.  
The bookbags lay open, books, scrolls, quills a jumble,  
In hopes the school would delay classes, the teens mumbled.

The students were sprawled all snoring in bed,  
While visions of missed friends played in their heads.  
And Snape in his robes, all cast in black,  
Had just stifled a yawn, due to a long winter's trek.

When in the Great Hall there arose such a clatter,  
He sprang to the door to see what was the matter.  
Away to the floor he flew with a crash,  
Tearing his robe and his noggin he smashed.

The moon on the crest of the window sill peaked,  
Giving fangs to the beast which beneath it did sleep.  
When what to his wondering eyes should appear,  
But a blue glowing stag, running way, way too near.

With raven black hair and eyes glowing green,  
I knew in a moment it was the young needy teen.  
More rapid than shadows he flew to my side  
And he smacked, and he shouted, and called me by name!

"Wake Snape! Wake! Please Professor, wake!  
Come on! Get up! Now up off the floor!  
To the top of the bench. To sitting up tall.  
Not backwards! Lean forward! Don't fall!"

As dry as fall leaves my throat did cry,  
When met with my voice that refused to comply.  
To my wand flew my fingers,  
Conjuring whiskey, two fingers.

And then, in a twinkling, a riddikulus was said,  
Then the request for food from a girl dressed in red.  
I lifted my head and turned it around,  
A growling, gray, granny in a bed I found.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his paws,  
And his clothes were a night dress, his slippers hid claws.  
A bundle of food he had sat in his lap,  
And he looked like a lion eating a snack.

His eyes-how they gleamed! His snarl how nasty!  
His teeth were like thorns, his snout dripping ghastly!  
His droll frightening mouth was drawn up like a bow,  
And the beard of his chin was as gray as city snow.

The stump of a chicken leg he held tight in his teeth,  
And the flowered night cap encircled his head like a wreath.  
He had a long, narrow face and a lean predators frame,  
That shook when he snarled and moved to take aim.

He was a contradictory mix, a wolf in a dress,  
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of distress!  
A flick of my wind and a twist of my wrist,  
Then the wolf was no more than a figure of mist.

We spoke not a word, but we turned and we grinned,  
No more than a Boggart, the fear of two men.  
The professors eyes narrowed, "A Patronus?"  
The teen gave a nod, "By Lupin was taught."

"Out this late?!" They both exclaimed,  
"Plots and plans, I'm on a mission." The duo explained.  
A nod of each head and each walked away,  
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he swirled out of sight,  
"Detention this evening, no prowling at night!"

* * *

If it wasn't already obvious, this was an odd rendition of the Night Before Christmas by Clemente Clarke Moore, with a bit of Red Riding Hood tossed in.

I am continuing to work on this story, but it is pollen season where I live and I only seem to be able to get through three or four hours each day before my body and mind wants to give up the fight with the flowers. As I work 8 hour days, all thoughts have left my head four hours before I leave for the day. By the time I get home I struggle to do more than sleep.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.


	16. Play Contest

Authors Note: I apologize for the long delay. Life got busy and there was no time to write. When I found the time I choose to finish writing the whole story before posting to prevent future delays and to make sure the chapters worked together. I have written the final nine chapters (including this one) I still need to proofread and make a few minor changes. I plan to proof and post a chapter a day. If you prefer to read stories all in one go then wait about a week. Chapter 24 will be the final chapter.

* * *

**January**

The new term began. The talk of the school was the play contest. Posters announcing the contest were attached to near every wall and door of the castle.

**Hogwarts Theater Night**  
May 15

Parents and the public will be invited  
to view a play written and presented  
by the students of Hogwarts.

Students are invited to write a  
script and submit it for consideration  
to the Theater and Art Department.

_Rules_:  
1. Submit your script by February 21.  
2. Do not include your name on the script.  
3. Do not indicate the House you belong to.  
4. Turn your script in by dropping it in the designated box.

_Motto  
Art unites. _

_Identification divides.  
_

Submitted scripts will be judge fairly  
due to the absence of identifying factors.

* * *

"Isn't this wonderful!" Hermione gushed, "This is the kind of contest the school has needed. None of that silly House bragging like with Quidditch."

"Hermione! There's nothing wrong with Quidditch!" the two boys exclaimed simultaneously.

"Besides," added Harry, "Gryffindor _is_ better at Quidditch than the other houses."

Hermione huffed. "Well I'm submitting a script and you should too. How often do we have an opportunity like this? To write a play that is actually going to be performed for all of Hogwarts and their families."

"Not my family," mumbled Harry. His friends' moods dampened slightly. "Don't we have enough to be getting on with? The teachers seem to be making up for our two weeks of freedom. I already have two essays, 3 chapters to read and a project to work on. Speaking of which, do you know anyone else born in July?"

"I was born in July." Harry turned to Neville who had been lounging in a nearby sette.

"Really? Would you mind if I interviewed you for my arithmancy project? I'm supposed to find someone who has a number in common with me and then find out what other numbers and events we have in common."

"Sure Harry. When did you want to work on it?"

"Now if you have time. But let's find someplace quiet."

The two boys left the common room and found an empty classroom. They spent the next two hours talking and comparing. Neither revealed all their secrets, but neither were all secrets kept. Some information learned was included in the project, while other facts were tucked away for a more vital use than a good grade.

* * *

The staff were also gossiping about the contest.

"Why wasn't this brought up at the last staff meeting?" inquired McGonnagal.

"I didn't know of it my dear."

"You mean this isn't sanctioned?" spluttered the old Scot.

Dumbledore shrugged, "Not as of yet, but I see no reason not to let it occur. It solves a problem actually. Those that contributed to the rejuvenation of the Art Department wish to see the product of their generosity. What better way than an evening of theater?"

"But what of classes Dumbledore?" asked Flitwick, "This will distract the students from their studies."

"Studies are not the end all be all of life at Hogwarts. Hogwarts is home to everyone inside her, and what is a home without entertainment?"

Snape chimmed in, "I have no doubt the scripts will be entertaining. The _spelling _utilized by the dolts is atrocious. One of them actually had the audacity to write, 'Lizards spleen, witch should always be sliced never diced,' spelling which W-I-T-C-H. She is a witch for Merlin's sake and she doesn't even know how to spell what she is! Whoever is required to judge these _works of art_ will have quite an amusing afternoon."

"Well, since you think it will be an enjoyable task, why not volunteer your services Severus?" probed Dumbledore.

Snape raised a brow, "You think I would make a good impartial judge? That I would not snake out who wrote each script?"

A few of the other staff tittered and Albus flushed. "Perhaps not. But you are always complaining that your House is treated unfairly. Surely you will encourage your students to participate."

"Only if the rules perfect spelling, grammar and punctuation are added to the regulations. If only one script is going to be utilized there must at least be some educational value to the rest of them."

Dumbledore raised his head in agreement, "I will see to it those stipulations are added. Please see your charges are encouraged to participate."

Snape groaned.

* * *

Alone in his quarters, Snape toasted himself on his ability to manipulate the conversation with Dumbledore in such a way that he was _required_ to encourage the participation of The Snakes. The play would be a distraction to the little dunderheads, but having his _children_ for lack of a better word, finally get a fair chance to be judge on their merits, not their tie color, he'd sell all the basilisk skin he was now owner of. Correction. He'd sell half. Or perhaps none. No use letting others get a head start on brewing with it until he'd had a chance himself. All he'd had time to do the previous summer was to harvest and store the various parts. Then the school year had started and free time dissappeared. Well, regardless, this was a valuable opportunity and he'd see to it that at least a few members of the snake din submitted a script.

After Snape made his evening rounds, breaking up snogging pairs, eviscerating those with messy rooms and shooing drowsy teens into bed Snape posted a sign on the Slytherin common room notice board.

**Slytherin House**

A competition is afoot.  
It is time to prove your cunning.  
Write a script that will teach  
the other houses the value  
of creative brains.

Your Head of House,  
_S. Snape_

P.S. So help me if you choose to participate in this  
distraction and your grades drop so much as one  
letter in any course you won't see the outside of a  
study cubicle on weekends until the end of term.

* * *

Harry sat alone on his bed with the curtains closed. He was grateful for the letters he and Snape continued to trade. Early on in the year Snape had included two spells in one of his letters. One spell was used to disguise a piece of writing as another. The other revealed the hidden text. This became their method of trading letters, Harry would write a letter to Snape, use the disguising spell, then write his potions essay. Snape would write his response letter, then use a simple duplicating spell to transfer Harry's essay to be the cover to hide his own letter. Harry now used those spells to hide his play script. Or scripts, as it were. The true final act couldn't be known until the time was right.


	17. Lupin Suspects

**February**

"Thanks for inviting me for tea, Professor," Harry spoke then sipped at the Earl Grey.

Lupin cringed, "Yes well, Professor Snape was none too pleased with me after the last Hogsmeade weekend. I thought it best that I really have you over for tea during this one."

Harry squirmed in his seat and blushed, "He was none too pleased with me either."

Both sipped their tea. Lupin's lips creased briefly in a small smile. "Your father used to sneak into Hogsmeade all the time. He'd come back with pockets full of sweets and shrunken bottles of butter beer. Even a bottle of Fire Whiskey once. We had the wildest parties." Lupin seemed to be lost in memory, "Once, during the spring Hogsmeade visit, he and Siri pinched a snitch from the Quidditch shop while under the invisibility cloak and dropped it into the pocket of a Slytherin. The snitch tried to escape the pocket and end up lifting the students robes giving away, or supposedly giving away who had stolen it. The aurors were called." At Harry's questioning look, Lupin clarified, "Magical police. The kid was charged a fine, double the cost of the snitch to the store and an additional 50 galleons to the Auror department. The kid's family was well to do, so the money wasn't such a big deal, but his parents refused to let their son's reputation be tarnished. It led to quite the uproar."

"Dad was never caught?"

"No."

"The student, was his name ever cleared?"

Lupin shrugged, "Rumors went around for a bit as they are want to do, but it eventually died down. The Auror's were idiots though. Snitches have flesh memories. Had they bothered they could have easily figured out that the student had never touched the snitch. But they were former Gryffindors and Snakes are known bad guys." Lupin looked sad, "Please don't fall into that belief Harry. It got your father killed, thinking all Gryffindors were innocent and all Snakes evil. A dark wizard can be in any house."

Harry decided to seize this opportunity. "If you feel that way, maybe you should be on the committee judging the play scripts. I know there aren't supposed to be any identifying markers on them, but still you seem like you'd make a fair judge. You always treat all of us equal in class."

"I'm not part of the Art Department, Harry."

"I heard a rumor that they were looking for judges who aren't part of the art department and aren't a head of house. They want the script that is chosen to appeal to the general public, not just artsy people and they want people who are truly impartial" Well, he hadn't heard it, actually, he was about to start the rumor. "You'd be a great judge."

Lupin looked thoughtful. "I will consider it. So, are you up for a game of chess or would you rather learn spells for changing eye and hair color?"

Harry grinned, "The spells."

* * *

A comment shared, a whisper overheard, a suggestion made. Within a week four judges had been selected to review the submitted scripts, including one Remus John Lupin.

On the 21, the day the scripts were to be judged, Professor Vector, one of the proposed judges, removed herself as a judge upon realizing that she was able to use numbers to determine who wrote each script. Professor Sinistra realized that the celestial objects, combined with the date of her birth indicated that this was the day she needed to go house hunting, for the perfect house awaited her this day. Professor Stewart had come down with what the students were calling stickitus. Everything he touched stuck to his hands for 10 full minutes before releasing. And one Harry James Potter found that potions were very useful and that both men and women liked chocolate. Each of the fore mentioned professors had found a piece of chocolate on their desk each enhanced with a different potion: the eye opener potion, the excuse potion and the stick to it potion (originally designed to keep hyper kids in their seat and on task for short stretches of time).

* * *

And so it was Lupin (whose chocolate was laced with a perseverance potion) sat alone judging each script. To ensure he judge every script fairly the judge and former judges agreed that Lupin would need to write the reason for the rejection on each and every script. Regretfully, he had to dismiss some decent story lines due to the no identification clause not being meet. Others were disposed of because they were not good stories. Really, who would want to watch a play about a bunch of starving people that have to hunt each other so just a few of them could live the good life while the rest suffered? Teens had really odd ideas about what is entertaining. Then Lupin came upon one that made his heart race. The story was obviously about Harry. But Harry hadn't written it, Lupin was sure of that. He had overheard Hermione pestering the two boys to write a script and they each flatly refused to do so. Could that mean Sirius had somehow submitted a script? Was this subterfuge or was there some truth in this tale? Truth or lies this script needed to be performed.

In the next moments Lupin became Snape's ally. One script was rejected because the writer wrote, "Turn the lights of," instead of, "Turn the lights off." Another was binned for the phrase, "He needed a brake." Was the character suddenly supposed to be on an out of control bike? Using then instead of than; improper use of there, their and they're; have where a half should have been used. They were all scrapped. Snape did have a point, some of the students had atrocious spelling. Lupin was normally kinder about such things, but for his goal to be meet he needed to dispose of as many scripts as possible.

At the end of the purge three scripts remained.

One was a rather good rendition of twisted fairy tales. The second was an action story about a bank style heist at a big company. The third was the one he wanted performed, The Night Death Fell.

Snape entered, smoking potion in hand. "Your potion Lupin, since you seem to lazy to come down to the dungeons to pick it up." Snape eyed the overflowing box of rejected scripts and then leaned over the table and read a few lines of the heist script.

_The tall, dark haired and roguishly handsome man fell backwards out of the window, tumbli_ng to his death as his enemy, John MacClane, watched from above, a smirk on his face.

"Die Hard? Really? Well you can add this one to the bin. It's plagiarism."

"What are you talking about Severus?"

"Don't you typically find your jobs in the muggle world, wolf? You're telling me you are unaware of one of the most popular action films from the past five years?"

"Films Severus?"

Snape snorted, "Pure bloods." More loudly he stated, "Next time you find yourself unemployed and roughing it in the muggle world you may want to actually bother to learn something about their culture." Snape walked out, dropping the plagiarized script on the growing stack.

Lupin leaned over and wrote plagiarized on the top of the script to make it an official decline then went back to the twisted fairy tales. To be honest, the fairy tails were the more entertaining of the two, which is why he was finding it difficult to provide a reason it should not be performed. But it was vital the other be preformed. If the author was correct, and Sirius was innocent, this was his one chance to get the wizarding world to consider that the wrong man had been put in Azkaban. But what proof could he provide to the others that the _The Night Death Fell_ was the right choice to perform?

Remus mulled it over. He glanced once more at the two scripts. Then his Marauder's spirit re-awoken. Marauders didn't let rules prevent them from achieving a goal. Mauraders circumvented, twisted and on occasion broke the rules. He may be but one of the four horseman that incessantly pranked Hogwarts for seven years, but he was the brainiest of the bunch and was the one that was most capable of circumventing rather than breaking said rules.

Remus engorgeoed a piece of parchment and set about creating a poster.

Lupin recalled James oft repeated words, "Things said or done in public are harder to take back. Sometimes, that's a good thing."

* * *

That night at dinner Remus silently made the poster visible above and behind the staff table. It played out like a muggle cartoon. A wolf entered from the right sniffing the air. It seemed to scent something near what appeared to be a hay bale with a door. Suddenly it howled, then all eyes were upon the cartoon wolf. The wolf seemed to puff up its chest as it drew in air. Then it blew as hard as it could and the straw turned into fluttering scripts. Then the wolf stalked over to the next structure, a small home made of twigs. Again the beast breathed deep and blew with all his might. The sticks clattered and became another pile of scripts. "Not up to snuff," the wolf gruffed. The wolf sniffed the air again and followed a path to two brick buildings. The wolf prowled around each sniffing each corner and side, then took has biggest breath yet. Wind billowed from lungs, but the two brick structures refused to budge. The wolf leaned on a wall connecting the two buildings then above each building unfurled the words:

May's Play: The Night Death Fell

November's Play: Twisted Fairy Tales

The students broke into applause and cheers. Dumbledore smiled and applauded. A few of the other teachers joined in. Meanwhile, others groaned and choose a nice goblet of wine to help calm their agitation about another term with students distracted by 'the arts.'

Snape glared at Lupin, "Isn't that a bit too revealing of your true nature?"

Lupin shrugged, "No one's figured it out yet. I don't see why they should."

"Either you final agree with me regarding the vapidness of these dunderheads," Snape gestured toward the students, "Or you are equally vapid."

Lupin frowned at Snape. "They are not vapid, they are children. They'll have plenty of time for cynicism as adults. They need not see every shadow as a specter."

Snape snorted, "Like your childhood was so cheery that you were unaware of life's living nightmares."

"I was too entangled in my own to notice anyone else's."

"More like too entangled in your group of so called friends to acknowledge the living nightmare you made for others."

"Touché. But the same can be said of you Severus. We each looked for acceptance and found it, for a time, with those that sook to harm others. And we both grew up and away from those groups."

"I choose to leave mine. Yours was ripped from your hands."

Lupin's heart ached. "They were." Then thought to himself, "But with a bit of luck, I'm going to get one of them back."

* * *

Author's Note: I am aware that my spelling/grammar are not perfect. I welcome PM's regarding corrections that need to be made. I have already been informed of the misspelling of Daily Profit instead of Prophet. I've chosen to leave that one as profit, because it is more fitting. On the other hand, it has always frustrated me that I don't know if it is Hogwart's students...or Hogwarts' students... It should be one or the other, but whenever I've seen Hogwarts used as a possessive it has never had an apostrophe, so I am at a loss as to which is correct. Feel free to advise.

Reviews are appreciated. :)  
They let me know people are enjoying the story. Even a :) will do.


	18. IJ Seeker of Justice

Author's Note: I own nothing, I'm just having fun!

**April**

It was the Hogsmeade weekend the week before Easter. Harry had weighed his options on an imaginary double sided scale: risk punishment or successful plot. The successful plot side won out with a resounding clunk.

Harry draped the invisibility cloak over his head then said the spell to open the path behind the humped witch statue. Before exiting the other end of the path he used the appearance changing spells Lupin had taught him. He lenghthed his hair and changed it to a light brown, almost blond color. His eyes he switched to blue-grey. Then he transfigured his school uniform hat into a fedora. Next he modified some of the features on his jacket. By the time he was done young Indian Jones was ready to venture on his quest. Harry slipped his invisibility cloak back on and quietly tread up the stairs into Honeydukes and then out the door amongst a group of exiting students. Harry found a secluded area and removed the cloak, then joined the throngs in the stores. He received some odd looks due to his clothing choice but only one person confronted him on it.

"Hi, I'm Dean. What's your name?"

"Indy."

Dean nearly boggled his purchases, "Really? Awesome. So, are you just pretending to be like the character in the movie or is the character really a wizard and your like his kid or something?"

Harry gave a raised brow and an enigmatic answer, "I think it's time to ask yourself; what do you believe?"

Dean gapped, making his own conclusions, then grinned. "So what are you seeking, Indy?"

"Fortune and glory, kid. Fortune and glory."

Dean, getting into his part, responded, "You're gonna get killed chasing after your damn 'fortune and glory'!"

'Indy' replied, "Maybe. But not today."

The two boys parted ways. Harry rarely got to just sit and watch movies in his childhood, but he would catch parts of them as he was cleaning and he could hear them from his cupboard. Indian Jones had been a favorite of both his and Duddley's. When he was little he'd sometimes pretend he was Jones running away from the bad guys (his cousin's gang). Actually, the time he had ended up on the school roof he had been imagining himself to be Jones running from the boulder and leaping over the pit, though his goal had been to leap the trash cans. He had been quite surprised to find his jump had landed him up so high. At the time he figured imagination must help you succeed at stuff, so he had begun using his imagination more and more often, to the great ire of his relatives.

Harry made his way to the Quidditch shop and thanked Merlin that his prey was perusing the merchandise. Malfoy had been bragging for weeks that his father was coming for the spring Hogsmeade visit to buy him new Quidditch supplies. Harry couldn't perform wordless magic, but he could put a silencing spell on himself and then perform spoken spells, which is how he proceeded with his plot. 'Indy' silently placed a freezing charm on a snitch, disillusioned it, then placed it in the younger Malfoy's pocket, then cancelled the freezing charm. The snitch immediately began to dance about lifting Draco's robes this way and that.

Harry had undone the silencing spell on himself and called out, "Thief!" People looked around and the store owners head whipped up from the order he had been ringing up, his hand automatically pressing the button that called the Aurors. He had lost one too many items due to theft and no longer hesitated to react. He was a bit surprised to see that it was the wealthy Malfoy boy whose robes were bobbing around, but internally he was thrilled that he'd be able to get a little comeuppance with the little snot.

Lucius grabbed the edge of his son's robe and withdrew the fluttering object. Two Aurors apparated in moments later.

Auror Mitchell inquired, "What seems to be the problem?"

Now that the actual moment was here though, the store owner was hesitant to complain about such a wealthy client.

'Indy' stepped forward and pointed at Draco, "That boy stole a snitch."

"I didn't." Draco insisted, "Why would I stoop so low as to steal?"

"You stoop low enough to treat everyone around you like pig manure, stealing is hardly a leap."

"What would you know of it, freak!" Draco sneered judging 'Indy' by his clothes.

"You just proved you're stupid enough to judge by what you see rather than finding out how much power the person you are insulting truly has."

"Oh yeah, what kind of power do you have?" Malfoy retorted.

"Enough!" One of the Auror's finally stepped between the two teens. Auror Roberts turned to 'Indy'. "What did you see?"

"I saw the blond boy pick up a snitch and slip it into his pocket."

"Liar," snarled Draco.

"My son would not steal. Come Draco." Lucius started to head towards the door.

Auror Mitchell blocked their path. "We still need to clear a few things up Mr. Malfoy."

Auror Roberts began to speak to the store owner while the elder Malfoy seethed behind him. All the while other customers gawked at the scene.

"What did you witness?" Roberts inquired of the store owner.

"The boy's robes were bouncing about as the snitch tried to escape his pocket."

"It would seem Mr. Malfoy that you owe this store owner the cost of the snitch and the Auror department a fee for us coming out here."

"He can have his precious snitch back! What need have I for stolen goods?" Lucius flung the golden winged object and it took off crashing into this and that and breaking nearly all that it touched.

Lucius again tried to leave with his son, but by this time Auror Mitchell had called for backup and Amelia Bones was now standing by his side in the doorway. Amelia silenced the crowd with a flick of her wand then turned to Roberts. "Report."

"Draco Malfoy attempted to steal a snitch. Lucius Malfoy is attempting to leave without paying."

Lucius was highly tempted to curse the obnoxious young Auror, but had no desire to spend his evening behind bars for losing his temper in front of the head of the Aurors. He settled for a death glare that promised retribution instead.

"Proof?" asked Bones.

"Well, this chap," Auror Mitchell pointed in the general direction he had last seen 'Indy', "Said he saw young Malfoy take it."

"What chap?"

Mitchell swung around. The man in the fedora was gone. "He was right...," Mitchell faltered then reluctantly turned back to his superior. "The witness is no longer here, ma'am."

"What was his name?"

"I don't know ma'am."

"What other proof did you have?"

Mitchell felt like a shrinking child under a mother's glare, "The owner saw the robe lifting due to the snitch being in the boy's pocket."

"Did you check who had first touched the snitch?"

Now Mitchell was turning red in the face, "No ma'am."

"Then I'd say it is high time that was done. Where is it?"

They all looked about. The snitch was no where to be seen. No one even seemed quite certain when it had stopped zooming about.

Auror Roberts tried summoning the snitch which caused his boss to turn her glare on him, "Given what you know about Quiditch how likely do you think it is that snitches have anti-summoning charms on them?"

"Highly likely, ma'am," stated the cowed Auror.

"Since you two have completely fumbled this investigation by losing both the witness and the stolen item and having the nerve to demand compensation from a citizen without full proof that they committed a crime you will spend the next several weeks on desk detail and the handling of drunks."

Both men groaned. They had just earned their way off those duties the previous week. Desk work was tedious and drunk duty meant getting vomited on and occasionally punched in the nose.

"As to this mess, I do believe you were the cause of this destruction Mr. Malfoy. It is only fitting you fix it."

"My apologies madame. I inadvertently released the snitch due to my frustration with being falsely accused." Lucius detested being polite to this women, but she had just cleared his son of all charges so he acted with the grace of a pureblood, "Dobby."

"Yes, Master, sir?" The protruding eyed elf popped into existence by his master's side.

"Clean this place."

"Yes, Master, sir." The elf whizzed around the place repairing items with a snap, levitating them into place, dusting the shelves with a flick of his hand and making the objects in the display cases gleam just by briefly touching each.

Harry snorted under his invisibility cloak, mentally thinking, "Why would anyone one consider a house elf inferior? They could perform wandless magic effortlessly and didn't need a seven year magical education to figure out how to do it." As he had these thoughts he removed a shrunken sock from his pocket and placed it in the fluttering snitch he held in his hand. Then he snuck across the room and slid it into Lucius' pocket.

Lucius' robes started to lift, "Not again." He jammed his hand in his pocket and yanked out the offending object. "Dobby, put this back in its case."

Three voices chimed out simultaneously:

"You had it!" shouted the store owner.

"Proof!" exclaimed Mitchell.

"Yes, Master, sir," came Dobby's docile response.

This was followed by:

Store owner: "That will be 20 galleons."

Bones to her Aurors: "Idiots!"

Dobby: "Clothes! Master gave me clothes! Dobby is free!"

The next few minutes consisted of:

-Lucius yelling at Dobby, "What are you blathering about? I didn't give you clothes."

-Dobby blithely ignored him as he enlarged the shrunken sock and pulled it on his head like a stocking cap.

-Bones yelling at her underlings, "Do you have no thought processes in those heads of yours? The missing _witness_ is the most likely instigator of all this chaos."

-And Harry quietly placing 20 galleons on the counter then slipping unnoticed out the door.

'Indy' made his way back to Honeydukes, still under the invisibility cloak. He snuck back through the trapdoor and then lifted the invisibility cloak off himself.

Harry sat on the dusty, stone ground and leaned against the wall. He withdrew his plot folder and returned it to full size. He pulled out a quill and the picture of police dealing with the "theft" of the snitch and wrote Ameila Bones. Harry shuffled through the papers until he found the one containing his to-do-list and put a checkmark next to, "Discover the identity of ethical police officers who use their brains rather than jumping to conclusions."

Harry had an invitation to the play ready for the honorable police officer (Auror) he discovered today, but in this case it was unnecessary. Susan had a small part in the play and her aunt would be in the audience.


	19. I am Snape

I wrote this chapter several months ago, but had to wait until now to post it. I've really wanted to share it, but until today I have been the lone reader.

* * *

Conversation amongst various students in the theater club:

The script says there's one year olds in the sandbox and children playing on the playground. There are little kids in a few other scenes too. How are we going to pull that off?"

"Short first years?"

"My little sister's three. Could she be one of the kids on the playground?"

"Your sister is obnoxious."

"All toddlers are. Isn't there a way we could play the parts?"

"What about polyjuice potion?"

"Huh?"

"You know, that stuff that makes it so you can look like another person. You just have to put their hair or fingernail clippings in it. Maybe we could have our parents send us a lock of our little brothers' and sisters' hair to use in the potion, then we'd turn into a toddler or a little kid for a few hours."

"You can really do that?"

"And you won't get stuck in that body?"

"Sure. My aunt's an Auror. They use it all the time."

* * *

Snape begrudgingly brewed a large batch of polyjuice potion and turned it over to the theater department for the play.

* * *

The theater department didn't keep things quite as secure as Snape would. During all the hubbub of practice Harry managed to fill a vial and hide it in his robes.

* * *

"Potter," Snape snarled, "Why are you not in class?"

"Good afternoon Professor Snape. Ms. Patil passed out in Care of Magical Creatures due to the intensity of the smell emanating from the creature Hagrid was showing us. I escorted her to her dormitory and am returning to class now, sir."

"Detention. 7PM."

Harry and Snape had been playing this little game for a few months now. Snape would show up out of nowhere and ask Harry a question to test Harry's lying skills. If he did a poor job of lying he had a real detention, if he pulled the lie off he'd have a defense lesson detention. Tonight would be defense and Harry would get the hair he needed for the potion.

* * *

A spell whizzed by the back of Snape's head as he was bent over the list of spells to teach Potter. Snape's head snapped up and he glared at the teen.

"Sorry, sir. I was practicing last week's tactic, attack while they are distracted."

Snape's eyes narrowed, but he made no comment. He started this week's lesson: use your terrain.

Near the end of the lesson Harry used an augamenti followed by a freezing charm on the floor. Snape slipped and while he was focused on melting the ice and evaporating the water Harry snagged the hairs from the wall behind where Snape had been standing when he'd cast the spell earlier in the evening.

* * *

Snape knocked on McGonagall's door. "Minerva, could you give me an update on my Slytherins?"

"Come in Severus."

It only took a few minutes for McGonagall to inform Snape of who was not doing well. Slytherins knew better than to get on the wrong side of Snape and failing to live up to potential would quickly earn his wrath. "Minerva, I need to pick up an order at the apothecary. May I use your floo?"

"Of course Severus."

"Diagon Alley." Snape disappeared in the green flames.

* * *

Ten minutes later McGonagall came upon Snape in the hall. "My, that was fast. Did the apothecary have your order?"

Snape hid his lack of comprehension of the question, "The idiots ordered the wrong item. I shall have to return in a few days. You lost our last chess match. Up for a rematch?"

"Your memory is failing you Severus, I won that match. But if you are up for losing again, by all means."

Snape led the way to his quarters and the two spent the next few hours battling on the board.

* * *

Meanwhile, "Snape" walked in to Gringotts and approached a teller. "Could I meet with an account manager?"

"This way."

* * *

"Snape" rushed back to The Leaky Cauldron. He needed to make it back to the castle before the potion wore off. The goblins were thrilled with his idea for a new company. (They had used blood to confirm his true identity.) According to the goblins all they needed was his signature agreeing to allow them to handle the details. They also assured him that they only agreed to investments that would make money and they were certain Harry's idea of McTacozzia was a real winner.

McGonagall's office was empty when he returned. He decided to stay hidden in the office until he returned to his own body.

Harry retrieved his goal folder from his pocket and un-shrunk it.

Privilege: I've never had a McDonald's dessert. I will try all of them once I achieve the goal.

Goal: Fast Food Night at Hogwarts

Plan: Open a McTacozzia. The Grand Opening will be Fast Food Night. The restaurant will be located in a diner truck with the same charms as the Knight Bus. That way it can be a mobile business at professional Quidditch games, at concerts or at special functions and can travel between the different magical villages. It will also have boxes like those at Edesia's so food can be delivered quickly to homes.

Risky Idea: Use polyjuice potion with Snape's hair to go meet with Gringots about the investment.

Problem: How does the food get to the restaurant?

Harry wrote _done_ next to plan. He drew a thick dark line through the risky idea, because there was still a risk of Snape seeing the plan. Then wrote, being handled by the goblins next to the problem. Then he wrote:

New Problem: How do you make fast food appealing to pure bloods?

Potential Solution: Modify the packaging.

Picture of solution: Harry drew a fry packet with brooms zipping around and a burger wrapper with snitches zooming. (Harry had learned how to make images move in art class.) He drew five taco wrappers, one with griffins, one with badgers, one with snakes, one with ravens and one with all four creatures. Each had an icon trigger at the top so customers could switch from one House's symbol to another, or could have all four symbols if they were too young to have been sorted. Last he sketched a pizza box. On the top he put a big question mark that lifted to reveal a card, similar to the chocolate frog cards, but with the idea that the famous people on the cards would be Quidditch stars or famous musicians.

Harry's stomach grumbled and he suddenly realized where he was and that he should leave. He had prepared an excuse incase McGonagall came back and found him there, but it was better to simply leave now that he was in his own body.

* * *

Harry made his way down to the Great Hall for dinner, but was waylaid.

"Potter!" Snape approached him. "Where have you been?"

"I was in the owlery visiting Hedwig, sir. I haven't been given her enough attention of late."

"Detention, Potter. Now."

Snape stalked toward his office in the dungeons and Harry followed.

"There was a major flaw in your plot today, Potter."

"Plot, sir?"

"This is not one of our games. You screwed up. Do you know how?"

"I'm not sure, sir."

"Then you can stand in the corner until you figure it out."

"But.."

Snape's eyes snapped dangerously.

"Yes, sir." Harry blushed as he headed to the nearest corner. Five year olds were supposed to be given corner-time, not thirteen year olds. He needed to figure this out quickly. What if one of the Slytherins came to Snape's office for some reason and saw him standing there? Harry shuddered at the thought. As quickly as he could he replayed the events in his mind. Suddenly his eyes grew wide, "I didn't confirm your where abouts. McGonagall must have run into you after I left."

"Out of the corner. I distracted her for you, kept her out of her office with a few hours of chess."

"Thank you, sir."

"When you plot you must take into consideration not only your own actions, but those of others. What will you do to ensure you remember this lesson?"

"I'm not sure sir. May I think about it?"

Snape pointed to the corner.

"Crap," thought Harry, "I hadn't meant to end up back in the corner. Maybe that is part of what Snape meant, I need to anticipate others actions before I act. I should have known he'd send me back here before I said that. What am I supposed to do to remember this? Write five hundred lines of, '_I will consider the actions of others before I act?' _Write an essay on historical plots that failed and why they failed? Please don't let anyone walk in here right now." Harry blushed bright red as his internal monologue continued, "If anyone saw me standing here I'd never forget this day."

"It appears you have come up with something," stated Snape. "What was it?"

"Please sir, I need some more time."

"I think not."

"Two hundred lines of: I will consider the actions of others before I act."

"That was not what made you blush. The truth Potter."

"Getting caught standing in the corner, sir," Harry turned bright red again.

"Oh, I think that can be arranged."

"Please, sir."

"You didn't take into consideration my location when you acted. Why should I take into consideration yours?" Snape called out, "Aria."

A house elf popped into the room. "You called, Master Potions Master, sir."

"Yes Aria, could you inform Mr. Malfoy that I need a word with him."

"Yes, Master Potions Master, sir." The elf disappeared.

Harry was desperate now. "Three detentions."

No response.

"Five potions essays."

Nothing.

"No allowance for a month."

A knock came at the door.

"One moment," Snape called to the person on the other side. Snape walked over to where Harry stood in the corner.

"The lines are due Monday at the start of class. The first essay is due Monday at 7PM when you arrive for detention. The essay will be of A or O quality or it will not count toward the five. You will continue to inform me of your expenditures and savings and the balance will not go up on either for the next four weeks. Always consider the reactions of others before you speak or act Potter, particularly when devising your own punishment."

Harry blushed again, "Yes, sir."

"You may leave."

Harry swallowed with difficulty, "Thank you sir." Then he vacated the room as calmly as he could so as not to make Draco curious. "Merlin," thought Harry, "Three detentions, 200 lines and five essays." Then a whoosh of breath, "But no one saw me in the corner, so it's worth it."


	20. Play Your Part

**May**

Snape had been harangued into _performing_ in the play. A third year Slytherin girl had knocked on his door the previous evening and politely requested that he bring authenticity to the play by observing one of the performers as they brewed a potion. Snape equally politely refused, "No."

"Please sir, you won't need to attend any of the rehearsals, you'll just need to walk on stage now and then and be yourself."

"No."

The girl looked flummoxed for a moment, then snapped her fingers. "If you'll be in the play the Slytherin third years girl's dorm will be spotless each morning for the rest of the year with no need for you to hassle us to clean it."

"Deal." The third year girls' dorm always had a messy space towards the end of the year. A former Slytherin, now business woman had calculated that the right time to sell beauty products, by mail order, was between January and May. The girls would go home for Christmas still looking young and innocent, then come back with coins to be spent and the desire to look more grown up. The problem was they had yet to develop the skill to do such a task neatly. Adding to the disarray of beauty products were mountains of clothing, tested and tossed to the side as each item was deemed unworthy to be worn in public. The house elves cleaned the common rooms, but the dorms were the students' responsibility. Snape insisted the Slytherins keep their dorms tidy, but this rule created headaches for himself as he was the one that had to enforce it. He was grateful for even a small reprieve of this duty.

Snape returned to the article as the girl left.

* * *

Harry was giddy. He had pulled one over on Snape. Harry rushed back to Moaning Myrtles' bathroom and slipped into a stall. Harry cancelled the color changing spell on his tie, switching it from green and silver to red and gold. Then he waited for his features to morph from female to male. Harry had snitched more than one dose of polyjuice and this time he had ensured that he knew the location of the person whose identity he had stolen. The plot also required keeping Ron and Hermione busy so he could be alone for an hour.

* * *

Having pseudo, prankster, older brothers came in handy sometimes. Harry had pulled the twins aside during the last Quiditch practice and asked if they could keep Ron busy for an hour. "What are you up to, little brother?"

Harry's eyes had twinkled as he grinned, "Mischief."

Fred stuck out his hand, "Your word that you'll tell us about said mischief,"

"By the end of term," continued George.

"And we promise to keep Ron occupied for an hour," the two finished together.

"Deal."

* * *

Hermione _was_ the distraction for the third year Slytherin girl, though Hermione wasn't aware of this. Since the re-genesis of the art department, and in particular the theater department, students were beginning to intermingle between houses. Hermione, to Ron and Harry's great relief, had made a study buddy with a Slytherin girl who defend her actions to the other Slytherins by stating, "Perhaps my ambition is greater than yours, if studying with Granger helps me achieve my goals all the better for me and mores the pity for you." This little speech actually caused the fledgling study group to gain a few members. After all, Slytherin's motto was, "Achieve your goals by _any_ means." Ron actually liked that goal in this case. Usually he'd be irritated by the idea of anyone wanting to socialize with a Slytherin, but Hermione had been in a snappish mood this year and seemed to be constantly harping on Harry and Ron to do homework. Ron's goal was: Avoid Hermione when she is in a homework crazed mood. He quickly realized this was more easily accomplished if Hermione had others to study with.

So Harry had chosen one of these study times to masquerade as the third year girl in order to get Snape involved with the play. Snape's presence in the play was vital for the success of Harry's plot. The twin's distraction of Ron seemed innocent enough at first- a simple offer to play a round of chess. Harry got an earful from Ron about what the rest of the game entailed later that afternoon, after he returned from masquerading as a girl.

"Ron, why is your hair green?"

"Those gits! They decided the game of chess wasn't Gryffindorish enough." Ron crossed his arms and Harry noticed another new change. Ron had red and gold stripped fingernails.

Harry giggled and Ron glared at him, "Sorry mate, but..." Harry didn't say anything else, he just gestured at the appearance changes.

Ron ground out, "I was using perfectly logical tactics that would lead to a guaranteed victory. George said I was being Slytherin! That's when he did this!" Ron pointed at his hair. "A few moves later Fred said my tactics were snake like and I needed to show more Gryffindor pride." Ron wiggled his fingernails. "They were trying to get me to be more _bold_ and _daring_ in my moves, and every time I didn't do so they'd do something else to me."

"Why didn't you just quit?"

Ron looked at Harry shocked, "And lose my winning streak? As if!"

"Why don't you change your hair and nails back to normal?"

"They said if I kept them for 24 hours I would be proving my bravery like a true lion."

"You could just ignore them," suggested Harry, "And change your appearance back now."

"Brothers don't allow that Harry. Sometimes it's better to just let them get in a prank now and then, otherwise you'll end up being their sole target in a prank campaign."

Harry couldn't bring himself to feel guilty about being the instigator of Ron's situation, at least not at the momement. Maybe he'd feel guilty later if people gave Ron a rough time.

* * *

Harry also held a private conversation with Dobby. "Dobby, I need a favor."

"Anything Harry Potter! What is it yous need doing?"

"Could you clean the third year Slytherin girls' dorm each night for the rest of term?"

"Oh yes Harry Potter! Dobby likes to clean. He'll clean all the dorms for all the Houses!"

"No Dobby. Just the Slytherin third year girls' dorms."

Dobby seemed to visibly deflate.

Harry hesitated. The bathroom adjoined to each of the dorms was expected to be maintained by the students that used it. He pictured the boys bathroom which was often disgusting. Growing up with the Dursely's he was used to a sparkling clean bathroom (provided by his own daily cleaning). Every time he entered the boys room at Hogwarts he cast cleaning and sanitation spells. At least everytime he was alone in the room, he was a bit too self conscious to clean it while the other boys were around. He couldn't comprehend how the other boys could put up with it. "One more job then. Could you look after the third year Gryffindor boys' bathroom?"

"Oh yes, Harry Potter! I's be happy to do that."

"Thanks Dobby. That really means a lot."

* * *

_Two weeks later, in the wee hours of the night before the play..._

It was 2:00 AM when Harry pulled back the bed curtains and slid out of bed. The trunk lid lifted silently. From the very bottom Harry withdrew his plot folder and unshrunken it. Inside were four posters he had made weeks earlier.

Each was an advertisement geared toward a different house and designed to hopefully get everyone on board with the last minute changes that Harry had planned for the play.

For Gryffindor:

Brave Gryffindors,

tonight your courage will be tested.

Prove yourself a worthy lion!

For Ravenclaw:

A true Raven seeks truth.

Tonight truth will be revealed.

Hinder it not.

For Slytherin:

A cunning plot doth take the stage,

to achieve a goal a snake has made.

For Hufflepuff:

Together we toil.

In turn we succeed.

Please help me,

With a goal to achieve.

Above each promulgation was the following:

The twisted tale we weave this night,  
May needle through our former sight.  
Keep this motto in your mind,  
And play your part, be your kind.

Harry carried the posters into a bathroom stall for privacy from his dorm mates and called out to Dobby.

"Dobby is being needed, sir?"

"Dobby, could you hang these posters in each of the common rooms?"

"Of course Harry Potter sir. Dobby be happy to help."

Dobby popped away.

"Wait, Dobby!" Harry whisper called.

Dobby reappeared. "Harry Potter sir be needing something else?"

"Could...could you perform a prank for me?"

Dobby looked uncomfortable, "A prank sir?"

Harry was still a little resentful towards Dobby for withholding his mail after first year, but... Harry bit the inside of his cheek, "Dobby, you remember how you helped me in second year, you know, protecting me," _by trying to kill me with a bludger,_ "By trying to make sure I was someplace safe," _you know like a place where I am beaten, starved, placed in solitary confinement,_ continued Harry's internal monologue, "Well I'm sort of in that situation again and I need you to..." Harry described his plan to Dobby.

Dobby gave a sharp nod of agreement. "I will do as you ask Harry Potter, sir." Then Dobby popped away again.

Harry rifled through his folder getting the scripts in order. One of the things he had requested Dobby do was to distribute the modified scripts just before the final act. A piece of folded parchment fluttered to the floor. Harry's brow crinkled as he unfolded and read...

_A teenage boy sneaks through his bedroom window which he had just pried open. The lights flip on and his Dad stands there glowering. "Where have you been?" he says. According to the TV shows the purpose of living with an adult..._

It was his "I Know Nothing about Living with a Family" essay, the rough draft Harry hadn't given to Snape because Harry had been a bit to open and a bit more truthful than he was willing to let anyone, even Snape, see. Harry re-read the long forgotten essay. His breath hitched as he came to one of the final paragraphs.

_Based on the families portrayed on TV, family members may argue, but ultimately they are there for each other when things get rough. There are even shows about people who lived together and treated each other like family but they didn't share any of the same blood. In many situations the adult wasn't always the one to help fix the problem. Actually, more often than not it seemed to be siblings helping each other. Some problems are just too big for one person to solve on your own and adults won't always be there when you need them to be, so depend on your siblings or your friends that act as your siblings. Blood has nothing to do with family. Family is how a group of people treat each other. If that group looks out for one another and does what they can to keep you whole and ensure your basic needs are met, and are willing to help you even when you piss them off then they are your family._

A tear dropped on the page. Harry didn't have the same kind of family most of his classmates had, but he did have friends who were willing to do all they could to ensure Harry was whole and that his basic needs were met. It was time he trusted them to help him.

* * *

Harry shook Ron awake, "Ron."

"Huh?" Ron groggily attempted to open his eyes.

"Ron, can you get the twins and come down to the common room? I need your help."

Ron begun to doze again within two words but re-awoken with the word help, "Help?"

"Ron. Go to the common room."

"K'ay," Harry looked on as Ron sleep walked out of the room and down the stairs and thought, "Ron could make a great zombie if they did a Halloween play."

Harry went and retrieved the twins himself. On his trip up to get Hermione the stairs turned into a slide. Apparently this was to deter boys from entering the girls' dorms. Harry, however, had grown up running from his cousin on playgrounds. One of his escape tactics was to climb a slide and leap to a waiting tree branch. Harry laced his trainers onto his feet and went for the girls' dorms again. This time, his rubber soles took grip on the slippery surface and Harry speedily made his way to the top. He tripped over a pile of clothes Hermione always complained of and nearly spilt some open nail polish. Hermione was a bit bewildered to have been woken by Harry but they both giggled on the ride down the twisty slide.

Once everyone was gathered, Harry relayed to them Sirus's innocence, the purpose of the play and how he intended to free Sirius. His friends cycled through many emotions including shock, disbelief, skepticism and a deep desire to punch Harry on the nose either for actions he took or his failure to include them in them until now. But they were his family and they agreed to stand by him and help his plot succeeded.

* * *

One last person was needed if the plan were to succeed. Professor Lupin needed to be on stage. Harry had to figure Lupin already had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen during the play so he wrote him a simple note:

Tonight truths will be revealed. Be on stage. You are in the final act. Be yourself. Play your part.

* * *

Alone, in the highest turret of Hogwarts castle, Sybil Trelawney lounged on cushions reading the morning tea leaves. No one heard. No one knew. Perhaps no one would ever even notice the new globe amongst the millions hidden in darkness. But she spoke. In a deep. Dark. Voice. Which was not her own.

"Tonight, as the sun slips off the moon, slaves will seek their master. Dust of bone. Slash of life. A willing sacrifice. Spirits breath will take form and slaves shall gather at his knees. Tonight, slaves will seek their master."


	21. The Night Death Fell

Author's Notes

Note 1: I wrote this chapter so long ago that I had forgotten I once had a better name for the play than the name I used in chapter 17. I've changed the name in chapter 17, but I don't recall if I used Tale of a Legend anywhere else. If you find I did feel free to let me know so I can fix it. Thanks!

Note 2: I used the characters regular names instead of fake play names, with one exception. It's less confusing this way.

Note 3: This is written in play fashion, but it is not Harry's script. It is an account of what is happening on stage.

Note 4: In shadow- the audience can still see what is going on on these parts of the stage.

Note 5: Sorry for all the notes. I hate when authors go on forever before a chapter. Now I'm doing it.

* * *

Parents arrived at Hogwarts, both the muggle and magical variety. Tonight marked the first theatrical production by the students of Hogwarts.

A large, vacant room of the castle had been modified into an auditorium. The seats filled as the crowd buzzed with murmurs of greetings and comments on what they were about to view.

Professor Metrobius, the head of the Art Department, walked out on stage. "Welcome. We hope you enjoy tonight's performance of The Night Death Fell."

Words appear in the air:

**The Night Death Fell**  
By Jim Asterro Patherson

Center Stage: A single flickering flame tops a candle on a cake. A puff of air and the flame flicks out. Lights come up.

Narrator: Two mothers chat on a bench as their children build sandcastles and knock them down. Though the sun is bright, the chat is dark. (Foreboding music plays.) The other children zipping down slides and spinning on merry-go-rounds will return tomorrow and everyday following. But the two boys squeezing sand in their hands won't be in the sunshine for many a moon. A war brews, and though all are at risk, some have become a target. Why slay a child not yet two? The mothers have no answer for this, but they will each hide there child and pray it is enough.

* * *

Stage Left is in shadow: Four boys stand, arms slung around each other. (Fred, Lee, Harry and Ron).

* * *

Stage Right is in shadow: Hermione Granger is brewing a potion. The recipe for veritaserum is on the chalkboard behind her.

* * *

_ Harry exits stage left and enters center stage. One of the boys in the sandbox calls out._

Child: Daddy!

_ Harry walks over and lifts the child into his arms._

Harry: Hey squirt!

_ The curtain falls. When it rises the entire stage is in shadow._

* * *

Stage right: Hermione continues to brew. Snape enters now and the and scowls or glares, but makes no comment.

* * *

Stage Left: Lee is sitting at a late night cafe with a very pale, but beautiful woman (Daphnee Greengrass).

* * *

Center stage: It appears Fred, Ron and Harry are about to have a conversation in Harry's living room.

The lights rise on center stage.

* * *

Harry: I need my home hidden. _He_ is planning on killing my son. Fred, would you be the secret keeper?

Fred: I have a better idea than that mate. Let's prank everyone. We'll put the word out that I'm the secret keeper, but Ron here will be the real one to cast the spell. They'll never expect it was all a ruse.

Ron: It's odd not having Lee here.

Harry (frowning): I don't trust him. Something's up with him. He's been sneaking around, avoiding telling us where he's off to. I'm worried he's joined the Death Eaters.

_The lights fade on center stage as the men continue their discussion and proceed with casting the Fidelius charm._

* * *

_The lights rise on stage left._

Lee: You look so beautiful tonight.

Woman: Darling, I'm beautiful every night.

Lee: Do you know how hard it is for me not to brag to my friends, to show you off?

Woman (sad smile): Most people lose interest in my beauty when they spot my fangs.

Lee: My friends aren't prejudice. They'll trust you.

Woman: During a war? They'll believe that a vampire isn't fighting for _Him_?

Lee: But you're not. You've never believed in that superiority bunk.

Woman: It's not my beliefs that are in question, Lee. Most people refuse to take the time to see past appearances. They believe everyone from a particular group to be identical in their thoughts and actions. That's why there are wars.

Lee: Yeah, but it still sucks that I can't brag about what a great girlfriend I have.

* * *

_The curtain falls. Up to no good music plays in the background. Ron sneaks across the stage. Halfway across he seems to have transformed into a cat (actor cancels the disillusiment charm on the cat and puts one on himself to make it appear he is an animagus). The cat (Crookshanks) continues to sneak across the stage. The curtain rises and we see the cat approach an evil wizard (Draco). The cat transforms back into a man (switch who is disillusioned)._

Ron: Master, I have discovered the boy's location.

Dark Lord (smirks): You have done well. Continue to be useful and you will survive this war. Those that serve me well will be rewarded.

* * *

_The stage goes dark. One by one, the glowing faces of Jack-o-lanterns come to life throughout the room. Halloween music plays._

_A child crosses the stage in a pirate costume, knocks on a door and chirps, "Trick-or-Treat!"_

_A spell blows the child away from the door and the Dark Lord exits the house and moves to the "hidden" one next door._

_A spell blast away the door and the Dark Lord enters. Green sparks fly from his wand and moments later Harry lays dead on the floor. Voldemort continues to the nursery._

Luna: Please. Don't.

Dark Lord: Step aside.

Luna: No. Please don't. He's just a...

_Luna tumbles to the ground as green sparks again leave the Dark Lord's wand._

The baby cries out: Mum? Mum? Mummy?! Da! Mum! (_child cries_)

_Then a third time, green sparks fly from the wand. A barrier seems to be in front of the crib and the sparks fly back hitting the Dark Lord and the roof of the house. The nearby walls and roof explode. The Dark Lord's body crumbles to ash and his robes and wand lay on the ground (Draco disillusions himself, and makes the ash, robes and wand appear.)_

_A ghost like figure rises from the ash (Draco appears translucent; someone off stage levitates him). The cat (Crookshanks/Ron) looks up at the spirit._

_The Dark Lord's spirit glares at the crying child then speaks to the cat: _Let them see my things, let them think I'm gone. Once they've seen them take them and hide them someplace safe. One day I'll find a way to regain my body and you will help me. They have no idea what I've done to stay alive, no one does.

The cat morphs into a man (Ron): Yes, master. I'll see to it master.

_The man morphs back into the cat and hides._

_Fred arrives and collapses by his dead friend and begins to weep. The baby's cries reach his ears and he races to the nursery and lifts the baby from the crib._

Fred (_voice cracking as he speaks_): Shh, Shh. It's going to be alright.

Another man arrives ("_Hagrid" is played by Goyle_): Let me 'ave him, I'll take him to a safe place.

_Fred passes the baby over to Goyle._

Fred: I'm going to kill him. (_Fred "apparates" disillusions himself)._

_Goyle leaves with the baby. The cat comes out of its hiding place, morphs into a man and gathers the Dark Lord's wand and robes, then he too vanishes._

* * *

The curtain drops. Fred dashes on stage. Halfway across he transforms into a large black dog (Fred is disillusioned and cancels the disillusionment spell on the dog). The dog sniffs at the ground and continues across the stage. The cat sneaks across the stage. Then the dog barks and chases the cat. The cat morphs back into Ron and he disapperates (vanishes).

* * *

The curtain rises. Hermione places the last ingredient in the cauldron then proceeds to put the spare ingredients away while the potion brews.

* * *

_The light rises on center stage. Rock music thrums from the doorway of a bar. Drunks dressed as super heroes and villains tumble out of the door. Amongst them hides a red head. The dog runs on stage and "morphs" back into Fred, wand pointed at Ron._

Ron: Murderer! He killed the Potters. He has a grenade!

_Ron twirled his wand first shielding himself then causing a giant explosion. BANG! Debris flew every where. When the dust cleared the bodies of the party goers lay dead and bleeding and a cat's tale swished out of sight._

Fred: No!

_Fred collapses on the ground and manically begins to simultaneously laugh and cry._

Fred: It's my fault. It's all my fault.

_Aurors arrive and arrest Fred._

Chief Auror: Take him to Azkaban.

_Fred is hauled off stage and pass the Dementors (moving painting of Dementors) and disappears into a castle on an island._

* * *

_The curtain falls once more. Scene takes place in front of the curtain._

Little girl: Mum, a cat! Can I keep him?

Mother: I'm not sure dear. Pets are a big responsibility.

Little girl: Please, Mum.

Mother: Well, I suppose.

_The girl picks up the cat and exits the stage._

_The handle on a clock spins rapidly._

_An older version of the girl enters the stage with her cat in her arms._

Girl: Mum! Mum! We won the pet contest. Our picture is going to be in the paper!

Mother: That's wonderful dear.

* * *

_The light dims on the mother and daughter and rises on a jail cell. Fred, dressed in prison clothes flips through The Daily Profit._

Narrator: Reading material is a rare treat in Azkaban. In fact, this is the first paper Fred has read in several years.

_Fred's eyes narrow, then grow in alarm._

Fred: So, my brother is still alive. Well he won't be for long. He won't get another chance to threaten my godchild.

_Fred "morphed" into the dog, squeezes through the bars and leaves the island._

* * *

...

Off stage, amongst the audience, George and Dobby prepared the pranks requested by Harry. All audience members were about to become mute and glued to their seats, and their feet glued to the floor. Dobby brought up an invisible force shield in front of the stage.

...

* * *

Stage right, light's up: Hermione cast a cooling charm on the potion then bottles the veritaserum. Snape enters and peers at the bottle, grudgingly, he gives a slight nod.

* * *

_The lights rise on center stage. _Instead of the expected characters, Remus Lupin and Harry Potter stand poised for danger, wands pointed at the large black dog. The dog morphs, not in to Fred, but into Sirius Black.

The audience attempts to react, but is unable to do so due to George's and Dobby's "prank".

Remus: Incaserous!

_Ropes fly out and tie Sirius to a chair._

Sirius: I'm not here to hurt Harry. I'm trying to protect him.

Harry: I don't believe you.

_Hermione enters._

Hermione: Use this. It makes it so the person can't lie.

_Hermione approaches the escaped convict and pours three drops on his tongue._

_Sirius's eyes begin to look glassed over._

Remus: What is your name?

Sirius: Sirius Orion Black

Remus: Who was the Potter's secret keeper?

Sirius: Peter Pettigrew.

Remus: Why did you kill the muggles?

Sirius: I didn't kill them. Peter did.

Remus: Why did you say it was your fault?

Sirius: The prank was my idea, if I had just done as James said and been the secret keeper they'd still be alive.

Harry: You were sent to Azkaban. Were you given a trial?

Sirius: No.

Harry: So legally, you are a freeman.

Sirius: Technically, yes. But there are orders out to have Dementors give me the kiss.

Remus: We're doing what we can to change that, old friend.

Harry: Did my parents know they might die?

Sirius: Yes.

Harry: Did they want me to live with Petunia and her family?

Sirius: Never.

Harry: If you are legally cleared, can I live with you?

Sirius: Yes, you were always meant to.

Harry: Was the play accurate, specifically the important parts?

Sirius: Peter's animagus form is a rat, not a cat. It was a boy that adopted him, not a girl. The contest they won wasn't a pet show. Other than that, the important parts were accurate to the best of my knowledge.

_Ron walks on stage with a rat in a cage._

Ron: Is this Peter Pettigrew?

Sirius and Remus: Yes.

Ron: Prove it.

Remus: Is the cage unbreakable?

Harry: Yes.

The rat squeales and desperately tries to escape the cage. Remus cast an enlargement charm on the cage. Then he cast a revilio on the frantic rat. Suddenly, a man replaces the rat. A man no one has seen in twelve years.

* * *

The audience's exclaim was muted by George's and Dobby's silencing spells.

Harry turned toward the audience. "Madame Bones, I believe you will find that the mute and sticking charm have been released from you. If you would, please approach the stage and arrest Pettigrew. He is currently in an un-breakable cage, so even if he reverts to his animagus form he cannot escape. Once he has been properly incarcerated could you remove the Dementors from the school? The scene of my parents murders and Pettigrew's betrayal were based on my memories, which I relive every time the Dementors come near me. I'm sure I'm not the only student who has been forced to relive unpleasant memories due to their presence. Also, before you leave, could I have it in writing that the charges against Sirius Black are dropped and that the Dementors are forbidden from approaching him?"

A stunned Madame Boones, Head of the Auror Department came on stage and made the arrest that would get her face on a chocolate frog card. Paper work freeing Sirius Black was signed and witnessed by three lawyers and a Wizengamot judge from the audience. A goblin also came on stage, and verified Sirius and the other signers identities with a drop of blood from each. He then made copies in quadruplicate, giving one to Black, one to Bones, one to the judge, and kept one for Gringot's files. Harry cast a magnifio on the documents as they were being written and signed so the whole audience could see a magnified version of them and be able to later validate their existence, he was taking no chance that people would later say that the document signing was just part of a made up play.

Finally, the few ropes still holding Sirus to the chair dropped away. Sirus grabbed Harry in a hug and the curtain dropped.

* * *

Professor Metrobius came on stage. "And with that, we thank all of you for joining us this evening. This was the first of what will hopefully be many theater nights sponsored by Hogwarts. Though, I do hope this will be the only one where a real murderer is arrested. My heart's a flutter just thinking of being on stage with a mass murder disguised as a rat," Metrobius put a hand to his chest. "The artwork and furniture were created by the students and the music was played by the students. Copies of the music are available for sale. A silent auction will be held for the furniture and art work. The proceeds will go to pay for tonight's meal and to help fund the next production. We hope you enjoyed the show. Dinner will be served shortly in the Great Hall."

* * *

The Ravenclaws were shocked by the truths they had learned. The Hufflepuffs on stage were disappointed that the only toil expected of them seemed to be the effort required to restrain themselves from attacking Sirius Black. The Slytherins felt they had been conned. It wasn't a Slytherin plot. Well, the style was Slytherin. But it was a Gryffindor, parselmouth plot! Some of the Slytherins were already plotting their next move. Some were terrified that their parents would return to _His_ side.

* * *

Author's Note:  
Metrobius is a famous actor from Ancient Greece/Rome. He was known for his impressive impersonations of women. I haven't been able to find any etymology connection online, but I found it interesting that it has a similar spelling to metrosexual.

Jim Asterro Patherson: Harrison James Potter


End file.
